Windy City Memories
by maninblue88
Summary: Former FBI agent Troy Harrison tries to get a fresh start as a Chicago Police detective. After arriving in the Windy City, Harrison reunites with an old friend and works with other officers to investigate grisly homicides while working with a special task force. Harrison and his colleagues soon become mixed up in an unsettling web of cyber intrigue, corruption, and murder.
1. Chapter 1

**Windy City Memories**

By: maninblue88

_Warnings: Spoilers for some of the missions for the game "Watch Dogs". Also, obviously, certain characters and story elements from "Chicago PD" are present in this story. _

_Copyright Notice: This is a crossover between the video game "Watch Dogs" and the TV series "Chicago PD". Therefore, all characters, locations, and other elements from "Watch Dogs" are the property of Ubisoft and all other related entities. Likewise, all characters, locations and other elements from "Chicago PD" are the property of the NBC network and any other related entities. No infringement is intended by my use of these properties in my story._

_This story in its entirety is Rated "M" for violence, language, and scenes describing substance abuse and/or addictions._

_[Author's Note: This story takes place 7 years prior to the events of my previous Far Cry 5 story "Respite", so Troy Harrison is once again a central character. Also, this story takes place in a sort of alternative fictional universe where the "Watch Dogs" storyline takes place three years prior to when it occurred in the timeline of the game. I mean no offense to any of you who are game storyline purists, so please keep that in mind when you're reading this story. Other than that, thank you all in advance for taking the time to read this and, of course, enjoy!]_

**Chapter 1: Endings and Beginnings**

_Task Force War Room  
FBI Academy  
Quantico, Virginia  
September 2010_

FBI Special Agent Troy Harrison carefully packaged up the miscellaneous case files that had been stacked on his small desk into a large cardboard file box. Officially, the office in which he worked was referred to as a "War Room", but it actually was nothing more than a cramped basement office with two desks in one of the office buildings on the campus of the FBI Academy. For the last four and a half years out of his decade long career at the Bureau, Harrison and his cousin/partner, Special Agent Bill Harvey, had ran a two-man organized and serial crime task force out of this confined office. They had travelled all across the country, and sometimes even overseas, working cases together.

Unfortunately, things had fallen out of place for the two partners over the last year. Bill Harvey had learned that he and his longtime girlfriend were expecting their first child together, and a few weeks later, he and Troy Harrison had learned that the FBI was withdrawing the necessary funding needed for their task force to continue on.

Bill had previously spent a few years doing covert intelligence work overseas prior to being recruited by his cousin, Troy, to come work for the FBI. Therefore, he had decided to accept a partial government penchant and retire early, while Harrison had handed in his letter of resignation to the Bureau's administrative staff, which made his imminent departure from the FBI effective at the end of business on this very day.

"Hey, bud", a voice said to Harrison from behind him.

A startled Harrison turned around to face whomever was talking. Bill Harvey stood in the open doorway of their empty soon-to-be former office, dressed in a stylish black leather jacket, dark cargo pants, and black boots with a black beret hat on his head. "Hey man", Harrison replied, "Jesus, you scared me!"

Bill smirked as he stepped a little further into the room. "Sorry", he said, "Packing up all our files?"

Harrison nodded with great regret. "Yeah", he replied as he motioned to the file box, "The Deputy Director wants me to bring these up to Headquarters in DC and distribute them to other units so they can take over the investigations."

The phone on Harrison's desk suddenly rang. He sighed as he promptly picked up the receiver. "Harrison", he flatly answered.

"Special Agent Harrison?" a female voice inquisitively asked from the other end of the line, "This is Beth calling from Deputy Director Hayworth's office at FBI Headquarters. The Deputy Director would like to see you personally after you distribute your case files."

"Understood", Harrison replied, "I'm packing up my office now, so please tell him I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Yes sir", Beth replied from her end of the line.

"Thank you", Harrison said before hanging up the receiver. He picked up the file box with both hands as he walked past Bill and out into the narrow basement hallway.

"Who was that?" Bill asked as he shut the office lights off.

"Hayworth wants to see me after I turn in our cases", Harrison said, "He probably wants me to finish that last bit of paperwork before I'm finally out of here for good." He sighed deeply before changing the subject. "I can't believe you're having a baby, dude", he said.

Bill chucked. "Shit, dude", he said, "neither can we. Krystal's still spun out about it."

"Where are you guys thinking of settling?" Harrison asked.

"We found a comfy place in New Hampshire near where her folks live", Bill replied, "I doubt it'll be much, but it'll be ours, you know?"

Harrison nodded. "Right on", he said before turning toward the open doorway of the office. Holding the file box in one, he reached his free hand out and grabbed the doorknob, locking eyes with Bill knowingly. "Here's to no more serial killers, mobster dickheads, and other assholes taking up our time."

Bill nodded. "Nothing but lullabies, diaper changes, and familial bliss for me from now on", he said confidently.

"I don't know what's down the road for me", Harrison said, "but I hear you there, bud." With that, he pulled the door to their office shut and locked it for the last time. He set the file box down on the floor and reached his arms out for a hug.

Bill Harvey reciprocated the gesture and hugged his cousin. "I love you, buddy", he said.

"I love you, too, man", Harrison replied, "I'm damn sure going to miss you."

_FBI Headquarters  
Washington, DC  
2 Hours Later_

After taking some time to distribute his case files to the appropriate FBI units, Troy Harrison entered the office foyer of FBI Deputy Director James Hayworth. He noted the presence of Beth Howard, the Deputy Director's secretary, sitting at her desk and typing on her computer. Beth was a slender brunette in her mid-thirties who was smartly dressed in a white button-down shirt and a medium-length black skirt with matching open-toed shoes.

"Hello Beth!" Harrison greeted warmly.

Beth looked up from her computer and gave the man an earnest smile. "Good afternoon, Agent Harrison", she replied with a kindly tone, "Please have a seat and the Deputy Director will be with you shortly."

Harrison gave the secretary a grateful nod before taking a seat on the large leather sofa across from the desk. It wasn't too long before the door to the Deputy Director's office came open.

Deputy Director James Hayworth appeared in the open doorway. He was a tall white man in his late fifties with neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair, dressed in a black three-piece suit with a paisley tie. "Agent Harrison", he said, "Please come in, son."

Harrison did as he was asked, promptly getting up from the couch and following his superior into his office. The Deputy Director closed the door behind them as Harrison took a seat in a leather chair across from Hayworth's large desk. A partial view of the US Capitol building could just barely be seen out the large window behind the desk.

"So", Hayworth began as he sat his large office chair behind his desk, "As you know, Agent, your resignation from the FBI has been accepted by this office and will officially become effective by five o' clock tonight. Have you distributed your case files as requested?"

Harrison nodded. "Yes sir", he replied, "That's what I was doing just before I came up. Bill and I had six active cases pending when we learned that funding was being withdrawn for the task force. I gave three to the Violent Crimes Section downstairs and the I asked that the other three be sent off by an FBI courier to the Organized Crime Division at the Washington Field Office. The agents there should be receiving them shortly."

"I see", Hayworth replied, "I hope you understand that withdrawing your task force funding was nothing personal, Agent. The Senate Subcommittee had asked a long time ago that those particular funds be reused to finance our various counterterrorism units around the country."

"I am aware of that, sir, yes", Harrison said, "The Director stated it quite clearly in his official memo. I'd like you to know that my decision to leave the Bureau was not made out of anger or discontent, sir. I just feel that a change of scenery would do me some good."

"How's Mister Harvey doing?" Hayworth asked.

"Bill's at Union Station as we speak", Harrison replied, "He's waiting for a train that will take him back to our hometown in Vermont. He's going to visit his mother and stay with her for a few days before going to meet up with his girlfriend over in New Hampshire."

"Good to hear", Hayworth said, "Please tell him that I wish them the best of luck."

"I'd be happy to, sir", Harrison said, "Thank you."

Deputy Director Hayworth nodded before setting a folder in front of Harrison. "I have to be honest with you, Agent Harrison", he said in a very concerned tone, "I'm not very happy with the thought of you leaving. You're a great agent, a talented profiler, and a stellar investigator. I'd hate to see such a fitting job prospect be filled by someone else, so inside that folder are details about a new position that I've taken the liberty of recommending you for. It's a special cyber task force based in Chicago, staffed by representatives of different agencies."

A now intrigued Harrison opened the folder and examined the documents inside. "Chicago PD, sir?" he asked, "the CtOS Task Force?"

"Yes, that's correct" Hayworth replied, "A huge tech corporation called Blume instituted a citywide operating system a few years ago called the CtOS, or Central Operating System. From what I've heard, the CtOS controls everything that's dependent on technology and AI in Chicago. There's a special task force based in their headquarters that's staffed by law enforcement personnel handpicked by Blume. ATF, FBI, NSA, the list goes on. All they need is someone from Chicago PD to join them and act as an agency representative."

"So, where do I fit in?" Harrison asked.

"The Chicago Police Department is willing to offer you Sixty-Seven-Thousand dollars a year for you to join their ranks as a Detective as well as an additional Twenty-Five-Thousand a year offered by the Blume Corporation", Hayworth explained, "You would work as a homicide detective by day and then work with the CtOS task force at night. You'd have to go through their police academy, of course, but successful completion guarantees you the position."

Harrison took a moment to really consider the offer before letting out a deep sigh. "Ninety-Two grand a year, huh?" he finally said, "Okay. I'm in. Chicago it is."

Deputy Director Hayworth smiled widely at that, gladdened by Harrison's acceptance of the offer. He opened the center drawer of his desk and produced a small packet containing an airline ticket and boarding pass, setting it on the desktop. "There's your ticket and boarding pass", he said, "Your flight to Chicago departs at seven p.m. tonight. I'll tell Superintendent Daniels to expect you at CPD Headquarters tomorrow afternoon."

Harrison skimmed through the small packet before realizing something and shooting the Deputy Director a very knowing look. "Wait a minute", he said, "This boarding pass has my name on it. With all due respect, Deputy Director, what would you have done if I passed on your offer?"

"I know you wouldn't, Mister Harrison", Hayworth replied, "Like I said before, you're too talented and experienced an investigator not to take advantage of an opportunity like this. I have the utmost faith in you, son." He extended a hand to Harrison.

Harrison shook the man's hand as firmly as he could, knowing that it would probably be the last time he would do so before leaving Washington and the FBI behind. "Much appreciated, sir", he said, "Thank you for your support and confidence all these years."

"You earned it, Troy", Hayworth replied, "Good luck, young man."

Harrison nodded before getting up from the chair and leaving Deputy Director Hayworth's office, the FBI, and Washington, DC for the last time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Welcome to The Wards**

_Chicago Police Department  
District 34  
Chicago, Illinois  
1 Month Later_

After successfully completing the Chicago Police Academy, Troy Harrison, now a fully-certified Chicago Police Detective, entered the lobby of CPD's District 34 station. The two-story brick building was home to sixty patrol officers, twelve detectives assigned to three different divisions, and four high-ranking officers that made up the district's command staff. District 34 was located in a very rough, high-crime neighborhood on Chicago's North Side known as "The Wards". What was once a booming business district was now a rundown neighborhood chock full of abandoned buildings, thanks mainly to the influx of drugs and gang activity that first enveloped the area in the late 1970's.

Harrison, dressed smartly in a black leather jacket, white cotton t-shirt, black wind pants, and running shoes with his star-shaped gold CPD Detective's badge hanging around his neck on a thin chain, approached the front desk in the district's lobby. He addressed the female Sergeant dressed in a neatly pressed white uniform shirt standing behind it.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

Sergeant Debbie Mahoney was a very professional looking blonde woman of medium height who appeared to be in her mid-forties. "Yes?" she said with a compassionate tone as she noticed Harrison's badge, "Can I help you, Detective?"

"Yes ma'am", Harrison replied politely, "I certainly hope you can. I'm Detective Troy Harrison. I just arrived here in Chicago recently and I've been assigned to work this district."

Mahoney gave the new detective a welcoming smile and extended a hand. "I'm Debbie Mahoney", she said, "I'm the Desk Sergeant here at District Thirty-Four. Welcome to CPD."

A now reassured Harrison gladly reciprocated the Sergeant's warm handshake. "I appreciate that, Sergeant", he said, "Thank you for the warm welcome. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the Homicide squad room, please?"

"I can bring him up there, Sarge", a female voice said from behind Harrison.

Troy Harrison turned around and was amazed to find his old friend, Abigail "Abby" Asher, dressed in a light blue Chicago PD uniform with an identification vest classifying her as a Patrol Officer with CPD District 34. The petite brownish blonde 20-year-old Asher had been with CPD for two years and had joined after receiving her Bachelor of Science Degree in Criminal Justice from a Colorado University.

"Well I'll be damned!" Harrison exclaimed as he opened his arms for a hug, "Abigail Rachel Asher, get your little butt over here and give me some love, kid!"

Asher trotted over and hugged her old friend warmly. "It's great to see you again, Troy", she said as Harrison kissed her cheek, "Or should I say 'Detective Harrison'?"

"Right back at you, Officer Asher", Harrison replied as he broke the embrace.

"Actually", Asher replied, "I'm a Detective now, too. I passed the exam a couple weeks ago and I'll be moving upstairs to Narcotics. Today's my last day on Patrol, as a matter of fact."

Harrison smiled. "Well then", he said, "I stand corrected. Congratulations, Detective Asher. You've come a long way from the thriving metropolis that is our hometown of Winterville, Vermont."

Asher chuckled and moved toward the stairs. "Thanks", she said as she motioned to the stairs, "Homicide's up this way."

She took Harrison up a flight of stairs to the second floor. At the landing, Harrison noted the presence of two sets of double doors. One on the left was clearly marked "HOMICIDE" in large block letters, while the other set, located directly across the hall, was marked "NARCOTICS" in the same lettering style.

"Looks like we're going to be neighbors pretty soon, kiddo", he said.

Asher grinned. "That's comforting", she said. She then took Harrison to the left and through the doors into the Homicide Unit squad room.

As soon as Asher came through the double doors with Harrison by her side, three detectives looked up from their desks and eyed the new hire curiously.

"Hi everybody", Asher said as she addressed the whole squad, "I'd like to introduce you to Detective Troy Harrison. He's new to Chicago and basically new to the police business, but he's no stranger to law enforcement."

"So I hear", an attractive Asian female detective spoke up, "You used to be with the FBI, right?"

"Yes ma'am", Harrison replied, "I was with the Bureau for ten years. I have extensive training in behavioral analysis and forensic science, plus I've spent some time in your fair city on cases before. Is Captain Broussard available, by chance?"

"He's in a meeting over at the Ivory Tower", the female detective replied, "But we can get you settled in for now. I'm Detective Sunny Tran, by the way." She extended a hand.

Harrison shook Tran's hand graciously. "Nice to meet you, Sunny" he replied, "You'll have to forgive my ignorance, but what's 'the Ivory Tower'?"

"It's our nickname for the CPD Headquarters downtown", an athletically-built African American male detective clarified before extending his own hand to Harrison, "I'm Detective Julius Dobbs. Welcome aboard, man."

Harrison switched hands and reciprocated Dobbs' gesture. "I appreciate it, Julius. It's a pleasure."

Asher then put a hand on Harrison's shoulder. "Since it looks like you're settling in okay", she said softly, "I'm going to head back out. Raise me on the district radio channel if you need anything."

Harrison nodded. "Thanks, Abby", he said graciously as he kissed her cheek once again, "Stay safe, kiddo." Asher nodded and left the squad room.

A very young-looking detective looking to be in his late twenties to early thirties came over and extended a hand to Harrison. "I'm Detective Nick Brooks", he said, "Welcome to the Thirty-Four."

"Thanks Nick", he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

Just then, Detective Dobbs' desk phone rang and he promptly picked up the receiver to answer it. Meanwhile, Harrison took off his leather jacket and neatly draped it over the back of the wheeled leather office chair in front of his new desk and sat down.

"So", Tran said to Harrison, "I saw you smooching on Abby Asher before. Do you guys have history?"

"You can say that", Harrison replied, "Abby and I grew up together back in Vermont. The 'history' you're implying goes back to the playground sandbox in elementary school."

"Then you guys never…" Tran said, trailing off.

"No", Harrison abruptly replied, "We're just really good friends, but she and I love each other dearly in that respect and have for a long time. Do you know Abby very well?"

"Yeah", Tran replied, "I was her Field Training Officer when she got out of the Academy two years ago. We've gotten to be good friends."

Julius Dobbs finished his phone call and came over to Harrison and Tran.

"Yo Sunny", Dobbs said with an enthusiastic tone in his voice.

"Yeah?" Tran replied.

"Sorry to interrupt", Dobbs replied, "but we just got a lead on that unknown suspect from the Rodriguez shooting that went down last week. An anonymous tipster just called in to nine-one-one and identified the suspect as Maxwell King. I just ran him through the computer. He's a twenty-six-year-old black male, five-six, weighing about a buck-fifty. His last known address is in an apartment above that sketchy pawn shop down the block from here."

Tran then looked to Harrison. "The guys and I can always go on ahead", she said, "Let you get more settled in."

There was no need for Tran's sentiment, however, as Harrison was already up out of his chair and putting his jacket back on. "That's okay", he said, "I came here to work. I can always get comfortable later."

Tran nodded, appreciating the man's confidence. "Cool", she said, "I'll drive. I can fill you in on the case details on the way."

With that, the four detectives left the squad room and headed down the block toward the pawn shop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Only One Thing Smells That Bad**

Detectives Sunny Tran and Troy Harrison rolled inconspicuously in their unmarked police car, a black 2010 Chevrolet Impala LTZ, down the street. They were on their way to the Pawned Off pawn shop in The Wards, with Tran behind the wheel and Harrison riding in the passenger seat. Their colleagues, Detectives Julius Hobbs and Nick Brooks, kept an equally discreet pace not far behind them in an identical-looking unmarked vehicle.

"So, Sunny", Harrison said, "Where are you from?"

Tran gave her new partner a sideways look, at which point Harrison's own look soured. "Sorry", he said graciously, "I didn't mean it like that. Did you grow up here in Chicago?"

The alluring female detective then erupted in a wide smile and wheezing laughter. "I'm just messing with you, dude!" She finally said after catching her breath, "Yes. I grew up here in Chicago. My parents own a Vietnamese bakery in Chinatown. I lived in the apartment above it my whole life until I joined the force six years ago."

Harrison nodded. "Cool", he said, "Have you always worked here in The Wards?"

"Yeah", Tran replied, "For all six years, almost seven now, I guess. Just so you know, they tend to put a lot of rookies at District Thirty-Four as a sort of test to their mettle."

"Meaning that if they can't handle the high crime", Harrison said, "the department would brand them 'damaged goods' and boot them?"

"Well I should clarify", Tran replied, "I haven't actually seen that happen myself yet, but yeah, that's the rumor."

Harrison sighed. "Then I hope that the rumor is indeed just that", he said, "Anyway, tell me about this Rodriguez case."

"Last Monday around one o' clock in the morning", Tran began to explain, "This nineteen-year-old guy named Ronaldo Rodriguez was walking home from the Pharmingtons Pharmacy where he worked the nightshift. He was crossing a crosswalk when a white unmarked panel van stopped suddenly in front of him. Some witnesses told us later that Mister Rodriguez flipped off and cussed out the driver just before multiple gunshots were heard."

"And this Rodriguez kid was hit", Harrison said as he filled in the blanks.

"First shot hit him in the left shoulder", Tran confirmed, "Second shot hit him right between the eyes. Some passersby told responding officers that they saw the van driver's hand appear out the driver's side window holding a handgun just before the shots rang out."

"What kind of caliber were the bullets?" Harrison asked.

"The medical examiner pulled two nine-millimeter hollow point rounds out of him during the autopsy", Tran replied, "The first round was deformed when it smashed against the edge of kid's collar bone, but he was able to extract an intact round from his head."

Harrison then sighed. "So", he said, "This poor kid dies because he was understandably pissed off when some shmuck in a white van almost plows him down in a crosswalk."

Tran looked at Harrison and nodded. "Welcome to The Wards, bro", she said, "If this neighborhood had a personality, I don't think it would be a very cheery one."

A loud chirping sound then came from the Impala's police radio, indicating an incoming transmission, before Detective Dobbs' voice was heard.

"Heads up guys", Dobbs said through the radio, "We're rolling up on the shop now. We'll meet up at that parking lot across the street and go over things before we head inside, over."

Harrison picked up the radio mic and pressed the "Transmit" button. "Copy that, Dobbs", he replied into the radio.

The two pairs of detectives pulled into the large public parking lot across the street from the Pawned Off Pawn Shop. They were surprised to see a black 2002 Dodge Dakota pickup truck with darkly-tinted windows sitting in one of the spots closest to where they parked. Two older looking gentlemen stood outside of it, leaning up against the side of the truck.

"Any idea who these guys are?" Harrison asked Tran as she stopped the car and put it in park.

Tran discreetly pointed to a tall, lean-figured man with salt and pepper hair looking to be in his early fifties. "That's Hank Voight", she said before motioning to the other man. This other gentleman looked more grizzled with a dark handlebar mustache and appeared to be of the same age as Voight, if not a bit younger. "…And that's Alvin Olinsky", she said, "They're detectives with the Gang Unit at District Twenty-One."

The four detectives exited their vehicles and approached the two plainclothes detectives. Voight was dressed in a black leather jacket similar to the one worn by Harrison, while his partner, Olinsky, wore a black fleece zippered jacket and matching knit cap.

"Hey Sunny", Voight greeted, extending a hand to Tran.

"Hi Hank", Tran replied as she shook his hand, then nodded politely to Olinsky, "Hey Alvin."

"Sunny", the soft-spoken Olinsky said.

Tran then motioned to Harrison. "This is my new partner, Detective Troy Harrison", she said, "Troy, this is Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky from the Twenty-First District Gang Unit."

Harrison took a moment to shake Voight and Olinsky's hands cordially. "Nice to meet you, fellas", he said.

"What brings you guys here?" Dobbs then asked Voight.

"We heard you guys were looking for Maxwell King", Olinsky said, "We've been looking into him for a while now. We think he might have some connection to Delford Wade and the Black Viceroys."

"They operate out of the Rossi-Fremont housing projects, right?" Brooks asked.

"Yep", Voight said, "We think this King guy may be one of their enforcers. Detectives at our district are investigating him in reference to an assault against a teenage boy that happened about two weeks ago. It's alleged that the young boy was part of a rival gang."

"We think he shot a nineteen-year-old kid named Rodriguez last Monday morning just for flipping him the bird", Harrison said, "How do you guys want to handle this?"

"Obviously", Voight said, "The murder case you guys are working trumps our gang case. We're just asking for a crack at him once you get him into custody."

"Well", Tran said, "There are enough of us here to secure the shop downstairs, head to the upper apartment, breach the door, and grab King if he's in there. Why don't you guys back us up on this one?"

Voight and Olinsky traded looks before Voight nodded affirmatively to Tran. "Sounds good", he said, "let's vest up."

The six detectives then strapped on tactical vests and leather duty search gloves. Tran retrieved a paper copy of the search warrant for Maxwell King's apartment before they entered the ground floor of the Pawned Off Pawn Shop. The shop's owner and manager, a 27-year-old African-American man named Keith Harold, was busy behind the counter.

"Chicago PD", Tran announced to him, displaying her badge. She then held up a mugshot image of Maxwell King with her free hand. "Does this guy live upstairs?" she asked.

Keith Harold looked at the photo and nodded. "Yeah", he said, "That's Max. He rents the apartment upstairs. I'm his landlord."

"Have you seen him come in or out of here today at all, sir?" Harrison asked.

"I saw him come through a couple hours ago", Keith replied, "He had some sketchy Hispanic-looking dude with him. They went upstairs together, and the other dude came down about half an hour later. He went right back out the front door."

"What do you mean 'sketchy'?" Olinsky asked, "Like he was drunk or high?"

Keith nodded. "Definitely", he said, "Like he'd been snorting coke or something. Dude was whacked out of his damn mind."

Tran nodded and placed a folded copy of the search warrant on the glass counter. "Listen", "That's a search warrant for your upstairs apartment. I'm sorry to say your upstairs tenant may be into some seriously illegal stuff, and I'm also sorry to say that we may have to kick in your door."

"You guys reimbursing me for that?" Keith asked.

Hank Voight then cut in. "Tell you what, buddy", he said, "If we have to kick the door, I'll come back next week and repair it myself."

Keith smirked and nodded. "I'll hold you to that, Officer."

Tran turned to Dobbs and Brooks. "You guys do me a favor", she said, "I saw a fire escape on the side of the building when we pulled up. Can you to head out and cover that in case he bolts?"

Dobbs and Brooks both nodded and headed back outside into the alley. Meanwhile, while Tran stayed downstairs to keep Keith occupied, Harrison, Voight, and Olinsky headed to the other side of the store, where a large metal security gate separated the ground floor of the pawn shop from the narrow stairway that lead to the upstairs apartment.

Noticing the security gate was locked by a large steel padlock, Olinsky produced a flat pry bar from inside his jacket and made short work of prying the padlock loose instead of breaking it off entirely. He removed the padlock and placed it in the corner of the room, at which point Voight pulled the security gate away with ease. The three detectives stealthily made their way up the very slender stairway to the apartment's front door.

Voight was about to knock on the door when the three of them were very abruptly met by a very pungent and unmistakable odor. The normally very stoic Gang Unit detective grimaced and covered his mouth with a gloved hand before looking to Olinsky and Harrison.

"Goddamn!" he exclaimed, "Well fellas, I can tell you that only one thing smells that bad."

Harrison, after withdrawing a gloved hand from his own hand, grabbed his portable radio and keyed the mic. "Harrison to Dobbs", he said into the radio, "Be advised, we've got a very bad odor coming through the front door. Can you guys see anything from the fire escape? Over."

"The fire escape looks clear", Dobbs said from the radio, "We're going to climb up and look in the window. Stand by."

The radio chirped back to life roughly 40 seconds later. "Dobbs to Harrison", Dobbs said from the radio, "Be advised, we have a man down in the living room! Repeat, man down!"

With that, Voight swiftly kicked in the door and the three men rushed into the apartment with guns drawn, tactically securing every visible corner.

"Chicago Police!" Harrison called out, "Anyone in here, call out now!"

The three detectives were met with a very ghastly sight when they reached the living room. The body of a black male lay face up on a tattered shag rug, surrounded by numerous buzzing flies with maggots devouring the flesh of his face. He had apparently been bludgeoned to death, as indicated by a large gash and several bruises on his face and head that Harrison took note of.

Voight shook his head in disgust and turned away, keying his radio mic. "Dobbs, Tran, Brooks, we need you guys to secure downstairs", he said into the radio, "We've got a homicide up here. I'll radio it in, over."

"Copy", Tran said from the radio.

"Copy that, Voight", Dobbs said from the radio, "Coming in now, over."

Voight then switched the channel on his radio before keying the mic once again, "Twenty-One-George-Bravo to Squad", he said into the radio, "We have a homicide in the apartment above the Pawned Off Pawn Shop in The Wards. Requesting the Crime Lab and a Medical Examiner. Plainclothes detectives are already on scene, over."


	4. Chapter 4

_Copyright Notice: Some of the city names featured at the end of this chapter are very obvious references to the Grand Theft Auto games. As always, any locations, characters, etc. associated with GTA are the property of Rockstar Games and any related entities._

**Chapter 4: In the Wind**

_Apartment of Maxwell King  
The Wards_

Roughly 20 minutes after discovering the body of alleged Black Viceroys enforcer Maxwell King, his untidy apartment was crawling with additional police and crime lab personnel along with an assistant from the Cook County Medical Examiner's Office. With Detectives Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky looking around the apartment for additional clues, Detective Troy Harrison knelt beside Maxwell King's decomposing body wearing a protective mask over his face to stave off the putrid smell.

22-year-old Maxwell King had met quite the brutal demise. He had apparently been bludgeoned to death with the heavy base of a nearby table lamp, which laid on the floor close to the body. His body has endured several blows to the face, some of which resulted in a fracture to the frontal portion of his skull.

"Why the hell is it so hot in here?" Harrison asked.

Cook County Assistant Medical Examiner Ned Harlan pointed a gloved hand at the apartment's thermostat on the wall a few feet away. Harlan was a heavyset balding man in his late fifties who was also wearing a mask on his face. "The thermostat was set to Seventy-Six degrees Fahrenheit for some reason", he said, "Any ambient temperature higher than the basic room temp of Seventy-Two would cause moisture to develop in the room which in turn probably accelerated the decomposition process for our late friend here."

A now intrigued Harrison stood up and examined the section of the wall near the thermostat and noted an obvious dent in the drywall. He gently manipulated the face of the thermostat with his gloved hand, at which point the device came loose from the wall and hung on by the wires connected to it. "So, Maxwell struggles with his killer", he theorized out loud, "Gets slammed against the wall and against the thermostat, inadvertently upping the ambient temp in the room and speeding up decomp. Ned, does our guy have any trace of drywall dust on his back or shoulders?"

Ned Harlan logrolled the victim onto his right side, at which point Harrison saw a light powdery white trace on the back of King's left shoulder. "That's affirmative", Harlan said, "Great theory, Detective."

Harrison gave a very thankful smile through his mask. "I appreciate that, Ned", he said, "But I think that begs the question: 'what was our killer feuding with Maxwell about when he took him out'?"

Alvin Olinsky then stepped into the room, holding his jacket sleeve over his mouth to staunch the smell. "I think Hank and I can answer that for you", he said. The Gang Unit detective then held up a small knotted plastic baggie containing what appeared to be a white powdery substance in his free hand. "Looks like cocaine to me", he added, "We found at least a dozen more baggies of this shit set up on the kitchen countertop back here." He motioned to the small kitchen behind him.

Harrison then carefully sidestepped past Ned and the body and moved past Olinsky into the kitchen, where Voight was silently counting at least a dozen of the aforementioned cocaine baggies. "Damn", he said, "I can't tell if this dude was a gang enforcer or just a heavy dope dealer. I mean, I'm no Narcotics detective, but that has to be felony weight, right?"

"Absolutely", Voight replied, "This King guy was obviously a major player here in The Wards. We should check with Narcotics and see if he was on their radar at all."

"If it's okay with you, fellas", Harrison said, "I've got a friend at my district who's about to transfer over to Narcotics. I'm pretty sure she could check into things for us."

Voight traded looks with Olinsky before giving Harrison a confirmatory nod. "Okay", he said as he passed Harrison his business card, "Let us know if she finds out anything useful." He extended a hand. "Nice meeting you, Detective. If there's any other way you think we can help, don't be afraid to call us or come by District Twenty-One."

Harrison shook both Voight and Olinsky's hands and slipped the former's business card in the breast pocket of his jacket before the two Gang detectives left the apartment and headed downstairs. Harrison's radio then chirped to life. "Tran to Harrison", Sunny Tran's voice said through the radio.

Harrison keyed his radio. "Go for Harrison", he said into the radio, "What's up, Sunny? Over."

"Be advised", Tran said, "Captain Broussard's outside. He wants to talk to us, over."

Harrison keyed his radio once again. "Copy that", he said into the radio, "On my way down now, over."

Harrison then descended the apartment stairway, politely moving past the other personnel coming and going from the crime scene, and made his way out through the downstairs pawn shop and outside. The exterior of the Pawned Off Pawn Shop was now crawling with police cars and several other emergency vehicles, at which point Harrison saw Tran speaking to a white-haired older man he assumed was his new Captain.

As he started to make his way over to where they stood, he was suddenly stopped by Abby Asher. "Hey", she said as she put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Abby", Harrison said, "What's up, kid?"

"Sergeant Mahoney told us that you guys were looking for a white van in connection to the Rodriguez case from last week", she said, "My patrol partner and I just responded to a call about a recovered stolen vehicle in a parking garage three blocks over. The description matched the white panel van the Sarge said you guys were looking for."

Harrison grinned. "Okay", he said, "Get on the radio and have it towed to the garage at the Thirty-Four, then call the Crime Lab and have them give it the once-over. I'll tell Sunny." He patted her on the back and put an arm around her. "That's great work, kiddo", he said, "I think you're going to make an excellent Detective."

Asher nodded. "Right back at you, Troy", she said, "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

"Well now that you mention it", Harrison replied, "We're waiting on Narcotics to take custody of some dealer baggies of cocaine that we found upstairs. Since you're going to be a big-time Narcotics Detective soon, you want to head up and take some pictures of them for me and safeguard the evidence until the detectives show up?"

Asher gave her friend a very excited and almost proud smile. "You got it", she said, "I'll put those calls about the van and then I'll head up and do that stuff as soon as that's done."

"Thanks kid", Harrison said before smiling back at her, "Oh, I mean 'Thanks Detective'!"

Asher nodded and headed inside as Harrison made his way across the street.

"Excuse me?" he said to the older man conversing with Detective Tran, "Captain Broussard, I presume?"

Captain John Broussard was a white-haired man in his sixties of medium height. In his corduroy jacket, paisley cardigan sweater, and dark slacks, he looked more like an experienced college professor than a police captain, if it weren't for the CPD Captain's badge he wore on a chain around his neck. "Yes", he said, "Can I help you?"

Harrison graciously extended a hand. "I'm Troy Harrison, sir", he said, "I'm your new Detective."

Broussard grinned as it dawned on him who Harrison was. "Ah yes", he said as he reciprocated the handshake, "It's nice to finally meet you, Detective. Your letters of recommendation from your FBI colleagues painted the picture of some sort of investigative superhero. Sunny here tells me that's not too far off."

Harrison turned to Tran, feigning a surprised expression. "Really?" he said, "And we've only just met."

Tran smirked. "What've you got upstairs, Troy?"

"Our victim is a black male identified as twenty-two-year-old Maxwell King", Harrison began explaining, "We received a tip from the people at OEMC naming King as a suspect in the shooting death of Ronaldo Rodriguez from last Monday." "OEMC" stood for Chicago's Office of Emergency Management and Communications, which includes the city's 911 dispatch center. "Also", Harrison continued, "The Gang Unit from District Twenty-One was looking at him as a possible enforcer for the Black Viceroys. This was his only known address."

"At a pawn shop?" a confused Broussard asked.

"He apparently lived in the upstairs apartment, Captain", Tran clarified, "Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky from the Gang Unit met us here. We secured the shop downstairs while Dobbs and Brooks watched the fire escape just in case anybody bolted out the alley."

"Voight, Olinsky, and I forced entry into the apartment after Detective Dobbs radioed to us that he could see a man down through the window", Harrison continued, "King was already dead when we entered, sir."

Broussard nodded. "I see", he said, "How long does the ME think he's been dead for?"

Harrison cringed for a moment. "I'm afraid determining Mister King's exact time of death is going to be a bit problematic", he said with a regretful tone in his voice, "We were able to determine that King jarred his thermostat during the struggle. The apartment's ambient temperature was accidentally increased, which sped up the decomposition process once he was dead. The entire living room was covered in flies, maggots, and one hell of a filthy odor by the time we got here."

Broussard sniffled. "I know", he said, "I tried not to be rude when you first came up to us, Detective, but I think the smell attached itself to your tactical vest, son. Why don't you head back to the district and shower up in the locker room?"

Harrison looked down at his vest and caught a whiff of the unambiguously bad smell himself once again. "Right", he said with a smirk, "My apologies, Captain. The district's just down the block, so I think I'll hoof it back. I've got Abby Asher upstairs documenting and safeguarding the drug evidence we found until Narcotics shows up to take custody of it. She and her partner also found the van King allegedly used in the murder at a parking garage three blocks over from here. She's got a tow truck on the way to pick it up, and a Crime Lab team is waiting for it at the district garage."

Broussard nodded. "Understood", he said, "That's fine work, Detectives. I'll see you back at the Thirty-Four."

_Audio/Visual Room  
CPD District 21_

Officer Sheldon Jin was busy working at his computer in the Audio/Visual Room, which was actually nothing more than a small office adjacent to the lower level garage area of CPD's District 21. Jin was a handsome young Asian officer in his late twenties with dark hair, tan skin, and striking brown eyes. He was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater with blue jeans and black sneakers. Hank Voight soon entered the room by way of the garage.

"Jin", Voight said.

Jin turned around in his wheeled office chair to face the detective. "Hey Hank", he said, "I've got everything you asked for on that new detective, Troy Harrison."

"Such as?" Voight asked.

Jin clicked his mouse and brought up the dossier he had made on Detective Troy Harrison. Voight looked on curiously over Jin's shoulder. "For starters", Jin began explaining, "Before he went through CPD training and joined the department a month ago, he had spent ten years as a Special Agent with the FBI. He's apparently a trained behavioral profiler with degrees in Psychology and Criminology. I pulled up news articles about some of the cases he had a hand in. Vice City, Liberty City, Los Santos, San Andreas, Nice, France, Istanbul, Turkey, London, England…there's tons of stories here. He and his partner caught at least two dozen violent criminals in at least four separate countries over the course of four and half years. There was even a case referenced from right here in Chicago."

"What case?" Voight asked.

"Remember that whacko from two summers ago who tried to copycat Richard Speck?" Jin asked, "He killed those eight women in that townhouse on the South Side?"

Voight nodded. "Eddie Ray Smith", he said, "I do remember that. Harrison caught him, huh?"

"He and his partner assisted Homicide for two weeks", Jin replied, "They found Smith in the ER at Chicago Med getting treated for an infected bite mark he got after one of the women fought back."

Voight took a moment to take everything in. "So, he's good police", he said, "He can be trusted. I hope he can use those skills of his to navigate our streets. He'll need them."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: One Long Night**

_"__No! Mama!" a young woman repeatedly screamed, "Mama! Mama! Nooooo!"_

Detective Troy Harrison suddenly jolted awake as he realized he was still in the shower in the men's locker room of CPD District 34. The feel of the cascading warm water eased him back into reality. That wasn't the first time he had experienced that fear-provoking dream of a past event that had truly scared him when it occurred years earlier. For the time being however, the detective washed his hair and body thoroughly before shutting off the shower and wrapping himself in a towel.

With his plainclothes and tactical vest unfortunately having to be disposed of due to getting inadvertently covered in decomposition bacteria at a crime scene, the only outfit Harrison had available in his locker was one he had originally intended to only wear for court: a three-piece blue tweed suit with dark blue faux alligator skin shoes and a light blue retro casual jazz Fedora hat. As he carefully put the suit, shoes, and hat on, a knock came at the locker room door.

"Harrison?" Detective Dobbs called into the locker room as he stuck his head in.

Harrison stood up from the wooden bench on which he'd been sitting. "Yeah, Dobbs?" he replied.

"The fingerprint report came back on the King crime scene", Dobbs replied, "The Captain and the Commander want to be briefed on everything ASAP. They're in the squad room waiting on us."

"Okay", Harrison said as he fastened the buttons on his blazer and put his badge chain around his neck, "Be right there, man. Thanks."

Harrison crossed into the Homicide squad room to find the entire squad waiting for him, as well as Asher and a slightly older Hispanic detective he didn't recognize. Likewise, a balding man in his mid-forties stood next to Captain Broussard, and the form-fitting white CPD uniform shirt indicated to Harrison that the man was a member of the command staff.

"Everything okay, Detective?" Broussard asked.

Harrison nodded as he sat down in his desk chair. "Yes, Captain", he replied, "I'm good, thank you."

Detective Brooks stood up and motioned to the man in the white uniform. "Detective Troy Harrison", he said, "I'd like to introduce you to my father, Commander Darren Brooks. He's in charge of operations here at District Thirty-Four."

Harrison stood up from his chair and shook the Commander's hand. "My pleasure, sir", he said.

Commander Brooks reciprocated his subordinate's hand. "Oh", he replied, "The pleasure's all mine, Detective. Nick and your squad mates have nothing but good things to say about you. Welcome aboard."

Abigail Asher, dressed in a camouflage-print hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans, and brown work boots with her new Detective's badge on a chain around her neck, then chimed in. She motioned to the Hispanic detective next to her. "And I'd like to introduce you to my new partner, Detective Ernesto Machado", she said before looking to her partner, "Ernie, this is Troy Harrison."

Harrison and Machado repeated the exchange of handshakes. "Nice to meet you, man", he said.

"Likewise, Troy", Machado replied, "Like Abby said, please call me 'Ernie'."

Harrison nodded. "You got it", he said.

"I thought your transfer to Narcotics wasn't until tomorrow morning, Abby", Detective Tran said, "what's the rush?"

"Lieutenant Broussard asked me to start immediately in light of what happened earlier", Asher replied.

Harrison then gave the Captain a perplexed look. "Wait a minute", he said, "Broussard, so that's your…"

"That would be my wife Kathy, Detective", Captain Broussard clarified, "She's the Lieutenant in charge of Narcotics across the hall, and Abby's new boss, as it seems."

"Okay everybody", Commander Brooks said, "let's get down to business. Someone please fill me in on this King homicide and its connection to the Rodriguez case from last week."

Each detective took a turn explaining the situation to the Commander, from the initial tip that lead them to the pawn shop to the discovery of Maxwell King's body in the upstairs apartment.

"Okay", Commander Brooks said, "Where's the Crime Lab on processing the van that was found?"

"I got off the phone with Maury Kerr from the lab just before we came over here, sir", Asher chimed in, "He and his technicians found a nine-millimeter handgun hidden under the driver's side floormat. He rushed it to Ballistics, who matched the bullet striations to the bullets taken from the late Ronaldo Rodriguez during the autopsy. That's our murder weapon. Plus, Maxwell King's fingerprints are all over it."

Commander Brooks nodded. "I see", he said, "I'll call the State's Attorney and tell him that the Rodriguez murder has a prime suspect in the form of Mister Maxwell King. What progress are you making in the King homicide?"

Harrison took a moment to look over the fingerprint report that Dobbs had passed along to him before replying. "Well sir", he said, "According to this, the lab found fingerprints on the lamp used to bludgeon Mister King, which also match an overabundance of prints found all over the apartment. The suspect's name is Maurice Vega. He's a twenty-six-year-old Hispanic male, five-foot-three, weighing about one-thirty. Rap sheet indicates several thefts, numerous drug possession collars, and three armed robberies: a jewelry shop and two convenience stores. This guy looks like a thug for hire."

"And a cocaine addict", Machado added, "The power of any addiction is quite strong. If I had to guess, that's what Vega and King struggled over in the apartment. I certainly don't mean to be insensitive here, but obviously Mister King wasn't victorious in that scuffle."

"So", Commander Brooks theorized, "Maxwell King impulsively kills Ronaldo Rodriguez on the street last Monday, only to be killed over a bunch of cocaine by some thug a week later. Were there any bags of cocaine missing from the apartment?"

Asher shook her head. "There's no way to definitively tell, sir", she said, "We secured at least twelve bags at the scene and logged them in as evidence downstairs. Vega could've stolen a thirteenth bag before or after killing King and took off with it, but there's no way to tell for sure unless we find him."

Commander Brooks nodded in agreement. "Then that's what we'll have to do", he replied, "I'd appreciate if all you Homicide folks would hit the streets and look for Maurice Vega. I want an investigative alert and a flash message put out over the Citywide channel as soon as possible. I want any addresses associated with him to be checked out. Asher and Machado, check with all known dealers in The Wards and see if Vega's been coming by their corners looking to score."

Everyone filed out and got to work doing what the Commander had requested of them. Harrison's cell phone vibrated. He checked it and found that it was an urgent text message from Dr. Neal Bartholomew, the head of the CtOS task force. He hustled over to the Captain's office and stuck his head in the open doorway.

"Captain?" Harrison said.

Captain Broussard looked up from his desk. "Yes, Detective?" he asked.

"I hate to have to duck out like this, sir", Harrison said with a remorseful look on his face, "but the head of the CtOS task force just texted me. He wants me to report in to the CtOS Control Center. May I?"

Broussard nodded. "By all means", he said reassuringly, "Sunny and the guys will be busy for a while, anyway. If we need you, I'll call. Otherwise, we'll see you tomorrow morning."

A now comforted Harrison smiled. "Understood", he said, "Thanks so much for the latitude, Captain. I'll be here first thing tomorrow."

_CtOS Control Center  
The Wards  
20 Minutes Later_

The Wards' district CtOS Control Center looked to be very out of place, being that it was incredibly modern and high-tech building that sat in the middle of an otherwise low income, high crime neighborhood. Harrison drove his unmarked Chevy Impala police car up to the entrance gate, displaying his badge for the security guard in the boxy security shack.

"Detective Troy Harrison, CPD", he said to the guard, "Doctor Bartholomew is expecting me. I've been assigned to the task force."

"One second", the guard replied before picking up the receiver to a small wall phone inside the shack and briefly speaking to someone on the other line. He soon hung up and pressed the button to raise the security gate, waving him through. Harrison nodded at the guard out of gratitude and pulled the car into an open spot in the employee parking area at the front of the facility. He was in the process of walking toward the employee entrance door when he noticed a tall white man in his twenties coming toward him, dressed in a very professional looking brown button-down shirt and khakis.

"Detective Harrison, I presume?" the man asked.

"Yeah", Harrison replied, "that's me."

The man extended a hand. "Doctor Neal Bartholomew", he said, "I'll be your supervisor here at CtOS. Welcome to the task force."

Harrison reciprocated the doctor's gesture, shaking his hand firmly. "Thank you, Doctor. I hope I'm able to help you guys out."

"I'm sure you will, Detective", Bartholomew replied, "I hope you're ready for one long night."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: The Aquarium**

_CtOS Control Center  
The Wards_

After making the formal introduction to CtOS task force leader Dr. Neal Bartholomew, the doctor lead Detective Harrison inside the CtOS Control Center in The Wards, where the enigmatic headquarters of the task force was located. Bartholomew began his tour of the building by bringing Harrison to the reception desk, where a young dark-haired woman looking to be of collegian age sat behind a very clean and modern-looking desk. She wore a telephone headset on her head and had a very noticeable nose piercing.

"Detective Harrison", Bartholomew said as he motioned to the young receptionist, "This is Molly", he said, "She's our dayshift receptionist here at the Control Center." He motioned back to Harrison. "Molly, this is Detective Troy Harrison with the Chicago PD", he continued, "He'll be joining us at the task force."

Molly smiled warmly at the detective. "It's so nice to meet you, Detective", she said with a very sincere tone in her voice before taking something out of her top desk drawer and setting it on the desktop. It was a laminated ID badge with Harrison's picture on it. "Here's your keycard badge, sir", she said, "It'll allow you access into the building and into The Aquarium."

Though slightly confused, Harrison took the badge and pinned it to the lapel of his suit jacket. "Thank you, Molly", he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." He then looked to Dr. Bartholomew as the men continued walking. "The Aquarium?" he asked Bartholomew.

The doctor smirked. "It's what we call our task force command center", he replied, "You'll see why when we enter. Before we get there, I have just a few questions."

Harrison nodded. "Shoot", he said.

"Your college background was in Psychology and Criminology, right?" Bartholomew asked, "Superintendent Daniels provided me with your file when he told me you'd be joining us here. I'm just wondering, how does a guy from Vermont end up attending a small college in Mississippi?"

"The small-town college there had great programs in those two specialties", Harrison explained, "I thought it was a better fit for me than a bigger school like the University of Virginia or Yale. I wanted to go on and get my Master's Degree in Criminology when I was recruited by the FBI."

Dr. Bartholomew nodded approvingly. "I see", he said, "Your file said that your specialties as a profiler include serial crime and ritualistic crime, correct?"

"Yes", Harrison said, "When I was going through Behavioral Analysis training at Quantico, I was one of six rookie profilers who got to visit prisons along the East Coast and interview inmates. Kidnappers, murderers, rapists, pedophiles, and any combination of the aforementioned four categories."

Bartholomew grimaced a bit. "I bet they were a real jolly bunch, huh?" he said.

Harrison scoffed. "Oh yeah", he replied with great sarcasm.

The two men soon reached a set of reflective glass double doors with a keypad security scanner beside them. Dr. Bartholomew pointed to Harrison's ID badge. "Why don't you give that a try?" he asked.

Harrison shrugged before taking the badge off his lapel and running it through the scanner. The device beeped affirmatively and the two double doors automatically opened with a mechanized hissing sound. "Welcome to The Aquarium, Detective", Bartholomew said as he led him into the Command Center.

The CtOS Task Force Command Center was a very spacious room, filled with computer workstations occupied by about a dozen law enforcement officials representing various agencies. Harrison noted the presence of familiar designations like "FBI", "ATF", and "U.S. Marshal" embossed on the various employees' shirts and raid jackets. The very obvious centerpieces of the room were two huge high-definition television monitors which showed a multitude of split screen feeds from what looked like surveillance cameras, computer webcams, and cell phone cameras.

"I get it now", Harrison said to Bartholomew, "With those giant monitors you have here, it's like you guys are looking in a big fish tank. I take it the populous of our fair Chicago are the fish then, huh?"

"Something like that", a male voice said from somewhere on Harrison's right side.

Harrison turned to see FBI Special Agent Dean McCain coming toward him with an extended hand. McCain was a tall white man in his late forties, with his brown hair shaved into a telltale Marine buzzcut. He was dressed in a very reserved-looking polo shirt in the FBI's trademark shade of blue with the official FBI seal just beneath the buttoned collar.

"Hi", he said politely, "I'm Special Agent Dean McCain, FBI. I specialize in crimes against children for the task force. Whenever we get a tip that someone could be misusing the CtOS features to lure or exploit minors, that's where I come in."

Harrison shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, Agent McCain", he replied, "Troy Harrison, CPD."

"I hear you used to be one of us", McCain said, "Is that right?"

"Yeah", Harrison replied, "I figured a change of pace here in the Windy City could be beneficial."

McCain gave his new colleague a fascinated smile. "Cool", he said, "Welcome to CtOS."

Harrison nodded to McCain with gratitude before Dr. Bartholomew motioned to a petite, lean African American woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties. Her black dreadlocks were fashioned into an immaculate bun with a flowered fabric hair tie and she was dressed in a plain white cotton t-shirt, blue jeans, and a raid jacket bearing the words "ATF AGENT" in large yellow lettering on the back. She was also wearing a radio headset.

"This is Agent Lavinia Taylor with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms", Bartholomew explained, "We call her 'Vin' for short. Any case that involves guns, explosives, or arson comes to her."

"Nice to meet you, Detective", Taylor said without taking her gaze from her computer screen, "I'm sorry for not shaking hands at the moment, but I'm right in the middle of something."

Harrison discreetly leaned over Taylor's shoulder, but was careful not to get in her way. On her screen, he could see what looked like a boat dock with boats arriving at it through the perspective of one of a CtOS surveillance camera. "What're you working on?" he asked.

"An ATF team is about to intercept a gun deal", Taylor explained before pointing to a man disembarking from one of the boats onto the dock, "And this dude just arrived from Milwaukee on his big, spiffy speedboat. He's about to get nabbed by one of our undercovers."

Agent Taylor then pressed a button her headset. "ATF Alpha One, this is CtOS Task Force", she said into the mic, "I have eyes on your target and the CtOS scan has confirmed his identity. He's your boy. Green light, repeat, you have a green light."

Just like that, a plainly dressed man who had been standing nonchalantly up against one of the dock pillars smoking a cigarette suddenly drew down on the suspect with a handgun. "ATF!" The man yelled as he kept his weapon trained on the suspect, "Hands in the air now!" Six other ATF agents in raid jackets and tactical vests soon appeared in the frame of the camera as they made their way onto the dock and arrested the man.

One of the agents glanced into the boat, removed a large cardboard box that had been opened, and deliberately turned it toward the camera so Taylor and the others could see. The box housed approximately half a dozen illegally purchased Tec-9 semiautomatic pistols. "CtOS Task Force", the agent's voice was heard through Taylor's computer speakers, "This is ATF Alpha Team One. We have the suspect in custody and we have the illicit cargo. Good job, Task Force, way to go, over."

Taylor pressed the button on her headset once again. "Ten-Four, Alpha Team", she said into the mic, "No sweat. Get home safe. Task Force out."

Harrison smiled gleefully, very much impressed by what he had seen. He high-fived Taylor and laughed, as did Taylor herself. "I'll take that over a regular handshake any day, man!" Taylor said through laughter, "Welcome to the Aquarium!"

"Thanks Vin", Harrison replied, "That was very exciting. Looking forward to working with you."

Taylor nodded as Dr. Bartholomew ushered Harrison over to his workstation. The detective took a seat and put on the headset that sat beside the keyboard. "You're assigned to work The Wards at CPD right?" Bartholomew asked.

"Yeah", Harrison replied.

Bartholomew reached over Harrison's shoulder and typed something on the keyboard. All of the available CtOS camera feeds covering The Wards appeared on the computer screen. "So that's where you be monitoring then", Bartholomew explained, "Your headset is connected every available police and emergency channel at OEMC. You see anything go down, radio them and they'll send whatever help may be needed for that situation."

"Okay", Harrison said.

Bartholomew then used the mouse cursor to select the image of a white man appearing to be in his mid to late twenties wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with the hood up. Once they had an adequate view of his face, he clicked on it and the live feed was momentarily paused, putting a rectangular orange border over the man's face. A small text window then appeared beside the right edge of the border, displaying basic vital statistics on the man.

"Ronald Davis", Harrison read out loud, "Twenty-three years old. Open warrant for a failure to appear on a narcotics possession case."

"Get on the horn to OEMC and tell them they have a wanted subject in the area", Bartholomew instructed, "Then hit the space bar and resume the live feed to track his movements."

Harrison pressed the spacebar, thereby resuming the live CtOS feed, before keying the mic on his headset. "OEMC Squad", Harrison said into the mic, "This is Detective Harrison with the CtOS Task Force. I have eyes on a wanted subject on the north side of The Wards, over."

"Copy", a female OEMC operator replied, "OEMC Operator Seven-Two-Five here. Go with the information, over."

"CtOS Scan has identified the suspect as 25-year-old Ronald Davis", Harrison explained, "Suspect is a white male, twenty-three years old, approximately five-foot-six, one-hundred-fifteen pounds. Suspect is wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with blue jeans and what appears to be black sneakers. Be advised, a failure to appear warrant has been issued for this subject, over."

"Ten-Four Detective", Operator 725 replied, "What is the suspect's approximate location at this time?"

Harrison briefly looked at the feed screen before keying his mic once again. "Be advised", he said into the mic, "Suspect appears to be leaving an ATM machine outside Peter's Liquor Store. That address is Fourteen-Thirty-Three Scott Street in The Wards. Suspect's heading eastbound on foot, repeat, eastbound on foot, over."

"Ten-Four", Operator 725 replied, "Be advised, we have a CPD patrol unit approximately one block out from that location. Suggest maintaining visual contact on the CtOS, over."

Harrison briefly muted his mic and looked to Dr. Bartholomew. "What do I do?" he whispered nervously.

Bartholomew put an assuring hand on the detective's shoulder. "You've got to breathe, buddy", he said comfortingly, "You're no good to anybody if you get flustered."

Harrison took his supervisor's advice and took a very deep, cleansing breath. Now collected, he checked the live feed screen for a moment. Ronald Davis was jogging, almost running toward an intersection. He unmuted the headset and keyed the mic again. "Be advised, Squad", he said into the mic, "Suspect is now headed toward a busy intersection east of the liquor store. Looks like he's trying to run for some reason, over."

"Copy that", Operator 725 responded, "Will advise. Unit Thirty-Four-Adam-Two is just around the corner from there, over."

As if by the power of the operator's suggestion, the CPD patrol car suddenly zoomed into frame from the right side of the screen, light bars flashing, just barely clipping Ronald Davis and knocking him off balance. He fell backwards and was suddenly laying face up on the ground. Two CPD patrolmen hurried out of the car and held their weapons on Davis. One officer soon flipped him over and secured him in handcuffs before pulling him up and ushering him to the car. Harrison noted that one of the officers was speaking into his radio mic.

"OEMC Operator Seven-Two-Five to CtOS Task Force", Operator 725 said from her end of the radio, "Be advised, Thirty-Four-Adam-Two has your suspect in custody. Well done, Detective, over."

Harrison chuckled with relish. "Ten-Four, Operator", he said into the mic, "Thanks a lot. Task Force out."

An impressed Dr. Bartholomew extended a hand, which a delighted Harrison promptly shook. "Fine work, Detective", Bartholomew said, "Fine work. I think it's okay if I leave you alone for a bit. If you have any questions, dial three-three on your desk phone. That's my extension, okay?"

A now more confident Harrison nodded and Dr. Bartholomew walked away in the direction of his office. Harrison had dreaded this assignment at first, but now he seemed to be settling in just fine.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Old Friends, New Leads **

_Copyright Notice: This chapter will feature names and references to teams and players that are the official property of Major League Baseball. As always, no infringement is intended by the use of these in my story._

_Owl Motel  
Parker Square  
5:00 AM_

Troy Harrison had gotten next to no sleep after his long shift at the CtOS Task Force. Now, the upbeat ring tone of his cell phone had startled him awake. He awoke in his comfortable but still shabby motel room at the Owl Motel in the Parker Square neighborhood and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, promptly answering it.

"Harrison", he answered.

"Hey Troy", Abby Asher said from the other side of the line, "It's Abby. Sorry if I woke you."

Harrison sat up in an easier position, moving to the foot of the bed and cradling his phone on his shoulder. "No worries, kid", he replied with a comforting tone, "What's up?"

Asher chuckled. "This is probably going to sound silly coming from me", she said, "As you know, I'm not exactly the world's biggest baseball fan, but I just won a pair of tickets to the Battle of the Sox baseball game tonight."

Harrison chuckled himself in response. "And you want me to go with you?" he asked under the assumption that he was putting two and two together.

"Yeah", Asher replied, "I mean, if you want to go."

Harrison smiled. "Well", he said, "I just so happen to have a Boston Red Sox shirt with David Ortiz's number on it. The Red Sox going up against the White Sox at May Stadium, that's definitely a 'yes'."

Asher laughed from her end of the line. "Cool", she replied, "I'll pick you up at seven tonight. The game starts at eight o' clock sharp. Where are you staying?"

"The Owl Motel in Parker Square", Harrison said, "The stadium's just a few blocks away. I'll meet you in the motel parking lot at seven."

"Okay", Asher said, "Are you coming into work?"

"Yeah", Harrison replied, "My shift starts in two hours. I was actually just going to get in the shower."

"I clock in about the same time", Asher said, "So I guess I'll see you at the district."

"Okay", Harrison replied, "I've got to go. I'll see you later, kiddo. I'm looking forward to tonight."

"Me too!" Asher replied with a thrilled tone in her voice, "Like I said, I'll see you at the district."

"You got it, kid", Harrison replied, "Bye for now, okay?"

"Bye bud", Asher replied. Harrison could tell his friend was smiling on her end of the line.

The two detectives hung up with each other, at which point Harrison set his phone down back on his nightstand, grabbed a clean outfit from his closet, and headed for the bathroom to shower.

Roughly 20 minutes later, Harrison emerged from his room dressed for work. As he walked toward his car, he noticed a tall man in a long brown leather trench coat, matching hat, and brown leather gloves struggling to work the soda machine. The man softly cursed under his breath.

"Excuse me", Harrison said as he walked over, "Do you need some help?"

The man looked up from his kneeling position at the bottom opening of the machine and sighed. He was a very rugged looking man appearing to be in his mid-thirties.

"Uh…sure", the man replied as he stood, "It's this damn machine. All I want is a cola to jump start my morning and my money got stuck in there without dispensing the soda."

Harrison examined the machine for a minute and lightly pressed on the coin and cash slots with the palm of his hand. "Which soda do you want, my friend?" he asked.

The very ominous-looking rugged man pointed to a particular cola. Noting the vending number, Harrison entered the number, at which point the cola dropped off its position inside the machine and out into the vending slot.

The man bent down, retrieved his soda, and stood up with a satisfied smile on his face and extended a hand to Harrison. "Thanks man", he said, "I'm actually your upstairs neighbor, I believe. I'm Aiden. Aiden Pearce."

Harrison shook the man's hand. "Troy Harrison", he said, "Nice to meet you."

_Homicide Squad Room  
CPD District 34  
7:15 AM_

Harrison, now dressed in a crisply clean white button-down polo shirt, khakis, and white sneakers, was busy working at his computer when Detective Sunny Tran came into the squad room. Tran was dressed in a gray cotton t-shirt, a matching suit jacket, gray jeans, and stylish flat heels.

"Hey Troy", Tran greeted warmly.

Harrison glanced up from his screen and smiled at his partner. "Hi Sunny", he replied, "How are you?"

Tran got seated at her desk opposite Harrison, setting her purse in her bottom drawer and setting her coffee down on the desktop. "I'm good, thanks", she said, "How was your first night at CtOS?"

Harrison grinned. "Pretty cool", he replied, "They've got a lot of interesting stuff going on over there. It was a long night, but we took down a gunrunning operation and found a dude with an open warrant."

Tran nodded. "Cool", she said before motioning to Harrison's computer, "What're you up to now?"

Harrison's gaze returned to his screen and he continued typing. "I came in a little early to see what progress you guys had made on the Maxwell King homicide while I was at the task force", he explained, I see here that you, Brooks, and Dobbs got stuck doing the neighborhood knock-and-talks without me, huh?"

"Yeah", Tran replied.

Harrison shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry", he said.

Tran put her hands up. "No worries, partner", she replied, "Duty called for you, after all. Not a whole lot of people wanted to talk to us anyway."

"Did you guys find anything promising after all that?" Harrison asked.

"Brooks and I went back to The Pawned Off Pawn Shop and showed Keith Harold a sequential photo array with Maurice Vega's picture in it", Tran explained, "He positively identified Vega as the sketchy dude who came into the shop with King that night and went upstairs with him."

Harrison nodded. "That sounds encouraging", he said, "Any luck finding Vega at his known addresses?"

"Brooks and Dobbs went to his only last known address", Tran replied, "It was a brick apartment building on the edge of The Wards. Turns out it's condemned and abandoned now. Officially, nobody's lived there in at least three years."

Harrison thought for a moment before clicking open another screen on his computer. "I think I might know someone who can give us a lead", he said with a very self-confident tone in his voice.

Just then, Detectives Brooks and Dobbs entered the squad room. "Morning guys", Brooks said, while Dobbs just reciprocated the gesture with a polite nod to Harrison and Tran.

"Good morning fellas", Harrison said, "Hey, do any of you know a guy named Monty Jones?"

Dobbs nodded. "Rings a bell", he replied, "I used to run into him occasionally when I worked Narcotics on the West Side. Last I knew, he was a petty thief and crack addict. Why do you ask?"

"Actually", Harrison corrected, "Monty was just a getaway driver for a robbery crew on the West Side for a few years, and while he was indeed a crack user back then, he never actually stole anything himself."

"I see", Tran said, "And why are you asking about this Monty Jones?"

Harrison leaned back in his chair. "Believe it or not", he said, "Monty used to be one of my Chicago informants when I was with the FBI. Every time my partner and I worked a case here and we needed to track down a particular person or location, we'd hit up Monty for info. Heaven only knows how he knew some of the shit that he knew, but every lead he ever gave us panned out."

"How'd you guys cross paths with him initially?" Brooks asked curiously.

"Three years ago," Harrison began to explain, "I was working a special task force with my cousin…"

"Your cousin was an FBI agent too?" Brooks asked, cutting him off.

A miffed Harrison put a hand up in response, silencing his colleague's inquiring nature. "Yes", he said, "Long story. We were working a case here in Chicago, trying to trace an organized crime operation being run out of a bootleg casino on the West Side. We heard through a wiretap about a possible heist being planned at the federal building Downtown later that same night."

"What would someone want to steal from the federal building?" Tran asked.

"Apparently", Harrison said, "a bunch of office computers from the Social Security office."

Harrison cleared his throat. "Anyway", he continued, "My cousin Bill and I notified CPD in accordance with proper procedure, but we somehow got to the federal building ahead of Patrol and SWAT. The building's security alarm was already going off when we pulled up and there was a suspicious car idling out front. I found Monty behind the wheel and detained him."

The detective then smirked. "Well actually", he said, "I handcuffed him to the steering wheel and left him for the cops. I followed Bill inside and we found a group of guys in ski masks and mechanic's coveralls in the process of stealing a bunch of computers from an office cubicle area. We made the bust just as the SWAT team was making their entry."

Detective Brooks sat back in his chair. "That's a cool story", he said, "But what makes you think Monty can help us find Maurice Vega?"

"With all due respect to every informant that you guys have on these streets", Harrison replied, "Nobody knows Chicago like my man Monty. If Vega's hiding out somewhere in the city, Monty knows people that can find him."

Tran sighed. "Okay Troy", she said, "Let's say that you're right. How do we even begin to find Monty?"

Harrison leaned forward and resumed working on his computer. "I just ran his Social Security number. He hasn't been arrested for anything in the last few years, which for him is very good. His Social Security records say that he's been working full-time at one of those news kiosk things in The Loop."

_News Tech Newsstand  
The Loop  
45 Minutes Later_

Monty Jones was a very thinly built black man in his late thirties. Unfortunately, his past addiction to crack cocaine was how he kept the weight off before, but more recently he had been clean from drugs for the last few years and had been living a more reasonable lifestyle. This was thanks mostly to the unconditional love and encouragement from his girlfriend, choosing to leave a life of crime behind him, and landing a legitimate job.

Today, Monty was working as an attendant at this small newsstand in The Loop, a subsection of the city's main Downtown area named for its very circular and rotary-like geographic layout. He had just finished selling a newspaper and a bottled water to a businessman when he spotted Harrison and Tran coming up to him.

"Agent Harrison?" Monty asked inquisitively after taking a moment to study Harrison's features to make sure that it was indeed him.

Harrison extended a hand as he strolled up to Monty's window. "Yeah it's me Monty", he said, "How've you been, my man?"

Monty gladly shook Harrison's hand. "I've been great, brother", he replied just before noticing the CPD Detective's badge Harrison had clipped to the waistband of his khakis, "You're a cop now, huh?"

Harrison smiled. "Yeah", he said, "So, it's actually 'Detective Harrison' now." He motioned to Sunny Tran. "This is my new partner, Detective Sunny Tran", he continued before motioning back to Monty, "Sunny, this is Monty. He helped me and my ex-partner with a lot of stuff back in the day."

Tran took her turn shaking Monty's hand. "Nice to meet you, Monty", she said.

"The pleasure's all mine, Detective", Monty replied before turning back to Harrison. "Hey", he said to him, "Whatever did happen to that FBI partner of yours? He was your cousin, right?"

"He retired from the Bureau right after I left", Harrison replied, "We both needed to make some changes in our lives, you know?"

Monty nodded. "I hear that, man", he said, "What brings you guys here to me today?"

Tran placed a mugshot picture of Maurice Vega onto the counter of the newsstand. "Do you still know people down in The Wards, Monty?" she asked.

Monty backed up a few steps and put both his hands up. "Hey now", he said with a very apprehensive tone, "I got my ass out of The Wards when I gave up hitting the crack pipe, man. I've been clean and sober off that shit for almost three years."

"That's wonderful, Monty", Harrison said, "I'm really happy for you, bud. It's just that we think the dude in this picture offed a dealer in The Wards the other night. We also think that this now-deceased dealer offed a nineteen-year-old kid who was just walking home from work last week."

Monty sighed and looked down at the picture to get a better look. "Alright", he said, "What exactly is it that you guys need?"

Tran pointed down to the picture. "The guy's name is Maurice Vega", she said, "We just need to know if you're still on speaking terms with anybody down in The Wards that could know where he's hiding."

Monty took a moment to think. "Like I said", he said, "I don't really associate with anybody down there these days, but there is a guy in my Narcotics Anonymous group that I think may be familiar with this Vega cat. You guys got a business card?"

Harrison produced one of his business cards from his pocket and wrote down his cellular number on the back before sliding it to Monty. "Given what you've said about being sober", he said, "We would never ask you to get into any wild shit. Just ask your buddy about Maurice Vega, and if he gives up anything, you call either the Thirty-Fourth District or my cell. Deal?" He extended a fist to Monty.

Monty smirked before bumping fists with Harrison. "Deal", he said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Mayhem at May Stadium **

_Copyright Notices: As with the previous chapter, this chapter features names, teams, and other references that are the official property of Major League Baseball. No infringement is intended. Also, the opening scene of this chapter replicates the opening mission of Watch Dogs, and as noted before, all characters, locations, etc. are the official property of Ubisoft and any other related entities._

_[Author's Note: We're finally getting to the main storyline of Watch Dogs. Sorry that it's taken kind of a long time, but my writing style sometimes calls for a lot of character development and backstory.]_

_Locker Room  
May Stadium  
Parker Square  
Later That Night_

Aiden Pearce thrust a bloody and battered Maurice Vega onto the floor of the home team locker room at May Stadium.

"You've gotta believe me, man!" Vega uttered as he rolled on to a laying position and looked up at his captor.

"Who gave the order?" Pearce sternly asked.

Vega was now whimpering in pain. "Come on", he pleaded, "I told you…I don't know!"

Aiden Pearce then scoffed with frustration. "You don't know", he parroted. He then extended his cell phone in his captive's direction and pressed a button. Filtered voices from an audio recording were then heard from the phone.

_"__Hit the family?" Vega's voice said._

_ "__That a problem?" Another male voice said in response._

_ "__Nope", Vega's voice replied, "I'll scare them good. You'll never hear from him again."_

As Vega tried to inch toward an open cubby, an increasingly livid Pearce grabbed him by the back. "So, what do you think, Maurice?" Pearce barked, "Did you scare me?" He then shoved Vega onto the edge of the cubby.

Maurice Vega rolled partly over and faced Pearce once again. "It was a job, man", he said with an anxious shake in his voice, "I didn't know."

Pearce then knelt down intimidatingly close to Vega's face. "Who was on the other end of the call?" he asked, "Give me a name."

"They never gave me a name!" Vega hollered.

"Yeah", Pearce said, "I'll give you a name." He then put a hand around Vega's throat. "Lena. Lena Pearce."

Aiden choked his hostage tighter for a moment before letting his conscience prevail and let him go.

Maurice Vega coughed and regained his breath. "I didn't know about any kids, alright?" he said, "That wasn't supposed to happen."

Pearce then pointed a finger in the man's face. "I want you to think very carefully", he said with a very commanding tone, "Think."

"Look man", Vega said, "Even if I knew a name, you couldn't get me talking. These guys…I've heard stories, man. They're like nothing you've ever seen before. You gotta walk away from this, man."

Pearce then stood upright and looked Vega square in his eyes. "Some things you can't walk away from", he said very matter-of-factly. He then withdrew a handgun from within his trench coat and pointed it at Vega's head.

"Please!" Vega begged, "Please!"

"Who gave the order?" Pearce said, his tone now demanding an answer in the direst of ways.

Maurice Vega was now completely panicked, as if his life was flashing before his eyes. "I spoke to him on the phone!" he yelled, "He told me where to find you!" He then broke into desperate tears. "That's all I know, man! That's all I know!"

"Give me a name!" Pearce said once again as he put his finger on the gun's trigger.

"I don't know!" Vega shrieked with despair.

Meanwhile, the epic baseball clash between the Boston Red Sox and the home team, the Chicago White Sox, was at the bottom of the eighth inning. In the stands among thousands of wound up fans and waist deep in the electric excitement, off-duty Detectives Troy Harrison and Abigail "Abby" Asher hooted excitedly for their respective teams.

Harrison was dressed in a Boston Red Sox t-shirt that displayed David Ortiz's number 34, while Asher was clad in a Chicago White Sox t-shirt bearing Paul Konerko's number 14. The two also wore respective baseball caps on their heads, fitting in well with the thousands of others around them. The two friends had to practically holler to each other just to converse due to the noises and commotion from the fans around them.

"So, how did you even get these tickets anyway, kiddo?" Harrison asked in a shout.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you", Asher shouted back before chuckling.

"I'm intrigued", Harrison replied, "Try me."

"You know that pizza place across the street from the district that's open all night?" Asher asked.

Harrison thought for a second and nodded. "Yeah", he said, "What about it?"

Asher chuckled. "I went to call in a dinner delivery order for the squad two nights ago and ended up calling WKZ Radio by mistake", she admitted, "I guess their call-in number was only two digits off from the pizza place. I ended up being the lucky third caller in their baseball ticket contest!" The young detective then burst out laughing.

Harrison broke out into gut busting laughter right along with his friend. "Wait a minute", he asked once he had regained his breath, "You're telling me that all you wanted to do was order a couple pizzas for your squad and ended up lucking your way into free tickets to the biggest baseball game of the season?"

Asher nodded. "That just about sums it up", she said. The two friends then playfully bumped fists.

The portable radios that the two detectives had clipped to their waistbands suddenly chirped to life. "Squad to all units in the vicinity of May Stadium and all units on the Citywide", the voice of a male OEMC dispatcher said through the radio, "We have a nine-one-one call reporting a possible Code Five-Eddie on the lower level of the stadium. Multiple Parker Square area units are responding at this time."

Harrison looked to Asher. "Code Five-Eddie?" he asked, confused.

"It means that there's some kind of disturbance happening on the lower level", she clarified, "As much as I'd hate to put a damper on our fun night out, I'd have to suggest we respond too, Troy."

Harrison sighed regrettably before nodding affirmatively. "Copy that", Harrison replied before grabbing his radio off his waistband and keying the mic. "Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward to Squad", he said into the radio, "I'm currently on location at the stadium with Thirty-Four-Nora-Charlie. You can hold both her and myself down on that Code-Five-Eddie call, over."

"Squad to Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward", the dispatcher replied almost immediately, "Copy your request and location. Be advised, possible armed subjects have been reported on scene. Approach with caution, over."

The two detectives promptly got up from their seats in the stands, removed their badges on chains from their side pockets and put them around their necks. They then pulled up the backs of their shirts and pulled out their respective firearms. Asher was armed with a Glock .45 Auto G21 handgun, while Harrison was armed with a Sig-Sauer P-226 handgun that he had customized with a handmade blue-tinted textured grip made from durable composite plastic.

A very overly curious 8-year-old boy seated beside Asher's seat eyed them inquisitively as they armed themselves.

Seeing this, Harrison cautiously holstered his gun and knelt to the young boy. "It's okay", he said, "My friend and I are police officers." He pointed to his Detective's badge. "See?"

Asher then held up her own badge for the boy to see. "There's nothing to be scared of, okay?" she said with a certain warmth in her tone.

"Are you guys going to save the city?" The young boy asked in that unintentional yet playfully prying tone that only an 8-year-old would use.

The two detectives chuckled. "Something like that", Harrison said before patting the boy's Chicago White Sox cap. "Enjoy the game, bud. Catch you later."

After discreetly getting the approximate location of the so-called "disturbance" from a stadium security guard, Harrison and Asher made their way to a long, dark corridor on the level just below the stands. Harrison held up his free hand to Asher once they reached one particular corner, indicating that they should both stay put for the moment in case there were suspects on the other side of the corridor.

"Have you got a flashlight on you?" Asher whispered.

"Unfortunately, no", Harrison whispered back as he went to peer around the corner.

Even in the dark, Harrison could see at least four dead bodies laying along the walls of the dim corridor. All appeared to be men in hooded sweatshirts and jeans, and they all appeared to be sporting the same tattoos, at least as far as Harrison could see.

"We've got at least four bodies here, Abby", Harrison said quietly, "I'm seeing both gunshot and stab wounds. Call it in and tell them we need the Medical Examiner, detectives, and the Crime Lab."

"Got it", Asher said before grabbing her own portable radio and keying the mic. "Thirty-Four-Nora-Charlie to Squad", she said quietly into the radio, "Be advised, Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward and I have at least four homicides on the lower level corridor at May Stadium. Requesting the Medical Examiner, district detectives, and the Crime Lab ASAP, over."

"Squad to Thirty-Four-Nora-Charlie", the same male OEMC dispatcher replied through the radio, "We copy your requests, and personnel is being notified. Be advised, Patrol-Henry-Two is on scene close to your location and is reporting two additional deceased at his location, over."

"Thirty-Four Nora-Charlie", Asher replied into the radio, "Copy. Please advise Patrol-Henry-Two that two plainclothes detectives are close by, over."

Before the dispatcher could acknowledge that request, a male voice was heard in the darkness. "Chicago Police!" The voice shouted in a very commanding tone, "Anyone in here, call out now!"

A very bright fluorescent light came on over head. A young African-American CPD uniformed officer in full uniform rounded the corner into the hallway holding his gun on Harrison when he noticed that Harrison himself was holding a gun. "Drop your weapon!" the officer commanded.

"Take it easy, Officer", Harrison said as he holstered his weapon with one hand and held up his badge with the other, "I'm Detective Troy Harrison, CPD District Thirty-Four Homicide squad." He motioned to the corner of the hallway with a nod of his head, at which point Asher came out from the corner behind which she had been hiding and held up her own badge. "That's Detective Abigail Asher", he continued, "She's a friend of mine from Narcotics. We were upstairs watching the game when we heard the Code Five-Eddie call over the Citywide."

The young officer took in the scene around him for a moment before sighing deeply and holstering his weapon. "Sorry about that, Detectives", he said with a very repentant tone, "I'm Officer James DeYoung with the Thirty-First District. I take it you're Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward, right?"

Harrison nodded. "That's right", he said.

Asher then held up her portable radio. "...And I'm Thirty-Four-Nora-Charlie", she said, "We just called for the M.E., some detectives, and the Crime Lab."

"So I overheard on the radio, ma'am", DeYoung said, "OEMC has everybody rolling. Half the coppers in my district are upstairs. What the hell went down here?"

"With all due respect, Officer", Harrison said, "Damned if we know at the moment. I see four homicide victims here." He motioned to two of the male bodies. "These dudes have been shot", he continued before making another gesture to the pair of male corpses across from them, "…and it looks like these two were stabbed. If this is one killer, he or she is pretty efficient. No messy blood spatter, no bloody footprints indicating the perp's quick exit."

"I hear you", DeYoung said, "I just found three more male bodies around the corner before I stumbled onto you guys. Is it just me or are all these guys sporting the same tattoos?"

Asher pulled the sleeve of her t-shirt over her hand before kneeling to one of the dead male gunshot victims. She carefully pulled up the left sleeve of the man's hooded sweatshirt, exposing some very distinctive black tattoos which made a sleeve of their own in fresh ink up and down the deceased man's arm. "Black Viceroys", she said, "They control at least fifty percent of the drug traffic in The Wards. They're run by a guy named Delford 'Iraq' Wade. He's one ruthless punk you do not want to cross."

A lightbulb went off in Harrison's head. He took out his cell phone and dialed a number. "Voight", Harrison said into the phone, "It's Detective Harrison from the Thirty-Four. Yeah, we met at the King homicide scene. You said to call if I needed anything, and I'm afraid that time has come. We need you and Olinsky at May Stadium as soon as you can get here."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Something's Rotten in the City of Chicago**

_May Stadium  
Parker Square  
10 Minutes Later_

Detectives Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky were essentially just around the corner from May Stadium when Detective Harrison called and summoned them there. They ducked under the taped off corridor entrance to be met by Harrison, Asher, Officer James DeYoung, and Cook County Assistant Medical Examiner Ned Harlan.

"Hey Harrison", Voight said as he and Olinsky made their way over, "What's so important?"

"We've got a total of seven homicide victims here, fellas", Harrison explained, "All either white or Hispanic males in their early to mid-twenties." He motioned to one of the deceased stabbing victims. "This guy appears to have been stabbed very efficiently." He then turned to Ned Harlan. "Ned", he continued, "What was it you said about the potential weapon?"

"It appears to have been some sort of fixed blade tactical knife based on the condition of this guy's gut wound", Harlan said, "You know, one of those knives that's serrated only on the top end?"

"Like if the perp had military training?" Olinsky asked.

"That'd be my assumption, yeah", Harlan replied.

"I still don't understand why you needed us here so quickly", Voight said to Harrison.

Harrison knelt down, took a pair of blue nitrile exam gloves from Harlan's open kit, and put them on his hands. He then crossed over to the dead man's right arm and rolled up his sleeve, exposing the very recognizable black tattoo sleeve. "These guys all appear to be Black Viceroys", he said, "You guys are investigating them, right?"

"Yeah", Voight said as he knelt down to further inspect the man's tattoo sleeve for himself, "How'd you guys come upon this whole scene anyway?"

Detective Asher then took the opportunity to chime in. "Troy and I were here already watching the game", she explained, "We had our radios on us and we heard the call go out over the Citywide channel."

"I'm sorry", Voight said as he stood back up, "And you are?"

"The apology's all mine, Hank", Harrison interjected before turning to Asher, "Detective Abigail Asher, these are Detectives Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky with the Twenty-First District Gang Unit. I called them here when you noticed the tats on our dead guys."

Asher shook each of their hands respectfully. "Nice to meet you, Detectives", she said, "Troy speaks highly of the both of you."

"Are you with Homicide too?" Olinsky asked.

"No", Asher replied, "I just transferred into Narcotics at the Thirty-Four. Troy and I are good friends and I invited him to come to the game with me tonight. I guess you could say we were in the right place at the right time."

Olinsky grinned. "I guess so", he said, "So you guys said seven bodies in total?"

"Yeah", Harrison said, "After I called you guys, I noticed the locker room door ajar over here." He gestured to the aforementioned door before carefully opening it.

The five of them cautiously made their way inside the locker room, taking great carefulness considering that the room was a possible crime scene. The interior was in considerable disarray, with various items strewn about the room. The most obvious pieces of probable evidence were the various drops, sprays, and minute spatters of blood which seemed to coat some of the benches, clothing cubbies, and lockers along the front of the room.

"Holy shit", Olinsky said after letting out a deep and contemplative sigh, "We need to get the Crime Lab people in here."

"OEMC told me that they're on the way", Asher said.

Just then, Officer DeYoung received a transmission on his portable radio and momentarily excused himself and answered it. "Detectives", he said after stepping back into the locker room's doorway a few short minutes later, "Lieutenant Henderson's upstairs in the VIP area. He wants an update on what's going on down here."

"Deon Henderson?" Asher asked, "the homeroom instructor at the Academy?"

DeYoung nodded. "Yes ma'am", he replied, "One in the same. He's also my Lieutenant at the Thirty-First. He's upstairs with some members of CPD brass from the Ivory Tower. He's apparently chomping at the bit for an update, and I'll bet the brass that's with him wants one too."

Harrison and Asher traded looks for a moment before they both looked to Voight and Olinsky to try and pass the buck. Voight threw his hands up in opposition. "Sorry guys", he said, "Al and I are allergic to department politics. You want to schmooze with Henderson and the Ivory Tower guys, feel free, but I think we'll keep watch over this locker room until the lab folks show up."

Harrison and Asher made their way upstairs to the stadium's very lavish and spacious VIP area. Four officers were trying to keep at least eight very wealthy-looking, well-dressed, and very obviously peeved people at bay.

"Hey you, sir!" One officer said to one of the men, "Come here!"

"This is bullshit, man!" the irked man barked in response, "You ain't got no probable cause!"

"We're just talking", the officer said in a very strict tone.

The man then started to reached for something inside his brown tweed jacket. "Hey man", he continued, "Look, I got my tickets right here…"

The officer then put his right hand on his gun belt while extending his left out in the man's face defensively. "Nope!" he said in the same sternly tone as before, "Keep your hands where I can see them."

Asher rolled her eyes at the display of bravado, then took note of exactly who some of the responding officers were. "Holy shit", she said to Harrison in a subtle whisper, "When DeYoung said there was Ivory Tower brass up here, he wasn't kidding!"

"What makes you say that?" an interested Harrison softly asked.

Asher discreetly pointed to the uniformed officer rousing the irked man. "That's Lieutenant Alan Forsberg", she whispered, "He's the Executive Officer to none other than Walter Barron, the First Deputy Superintendent of Police." She then pointed over to another uniformed officer in a white CPD uniform shirt with a very noticeable Sergeant's patch on the shoulder. "That's Sergeant Mickey Goodwin", she continued, "He's in charge of the Marine Unit." She turned her gaze to another officer standing guard in the left corner of the room. "That's Officer Frank Milne", she said, "He's the exclusive driver for First Deputy Superintendent Barron."

Harrison nodded in acknowledgement as another uniformed officer came up to them. Lieutenant Deon Henderson was a tall, fetching African-American man in his late thirties with a very neat dark-haired fade haircut. "Well, well, well!" he said with a smile as he came over to them, "If it isn't Harrison and Asher. It's good to see you two again." He extended a hand to both of them respectively.

"Same to you, Lieutenant!" Asher said, "Are you in charge of the scene here tonight, sir?"

"I guess I am", Henderson replied, "But with all the Ivory Tower guys here, I'm not really sure to be honest with you."

"That's what we were wondering", Harrison said as he motioned for himself, Henderson and Asher to go off to a more private corner of the room, "What are they all doing here?" he asked with a soft tone of voice, "Is the First Deputy here tonight himself or something?"

Henderson briefly eyed the people behind him before shrugging his shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine, Detective", he said forthrightly, "I heard all the radio traffic over the Citywide channel about the initial Code Five-Eddie call. Then when you guys radioed in about all the homicide victims you found downstairs, Officer DeYoung and I responded ourselves. Lieutenant Forsberg and the rest of the brass were already here when we arrived up here. There's been no sign of the First Deputy since we've been here."

Asher then looked over Henderson's shoulder and took another look at the man heatedly talking with Lieutenant Forsberg. "Who's that dude talking with Forsberg?" she asked Henderson.

Henderson sighed before leaning into both Harrison and Asher. "His name's Joseph DeMarco", he whispered, "On paper, he's some sort of hipster artist type of guy. But between the three of us and the corner we're standing in, the Organized Crime Section has had eyes on him for a while now. It's rumored that he's Lucky Quinn's business manager."

Harrison scoffed. "Lucky Quinn?" he asked, "As in 'the head of the Chicago South Club' Lucky Quinn? No wonder he's got eyes on him."

"Alright", Henderson said, "nefarious characters aside, what's going on with your seven bodies downstairs, guys?"

"Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky from the Gang Unit are helping us out with the investigation", Asher said, "All the victims appear to be members of the Black Viceroys. They all have the ink on their arms. Some of them were shot and some of them were stabbed, plus it looks like some sort of bloody assault went down in the White Sox locker room. There's blood drops and spatter everywhere, so the Crime Lab's just starting to work the room as we speak."

Just then, a very thunderous electrical buzzing sound was heard, followed by an even louder popping sound that seemed to cover the entirety of the stadium. Everyone and everything were then drenched in pitch black darkness.

"What the hell was that?" Henderson exclaimed.

"Uh…apparently the power's out", Harrison said, "Hang on." The anxious detective grabbed his radio and keyed the mic. "Hey Voight", he said into the radio, "Do you copy?"

"Copy Harrison", Voight answered a few seconds later, "Be advised, the power seems to have gone out for both the stadium and this whole section of Parker Square. OEMC just broadcast a call over the Citywide about a transformer breach, over."

Harrison groaned in frustration before composing himself. "Ten-Four", he replied, "Tell Ned to get those bodies out of there as carefully and quickly as possible and have the Crime Lab team sit tight. They have their auxiliary work lights down there, right? Over."

"Ten-Four", Voight answered after checking with the Crime Lab leader on scene, "The team leader says that their lights run on battery, so there still working the scene as best they can, over."

"Copy", Harrison replied, "I think the best thing to do is just to sit tight until we know exactly what's going on. You and Olinsky cool with that? Over."

"Ten-Four", Voight answered back, "We're not going anywhere. Voight out."

Harrison then turned back to Asher and Henderson. "This is too weird", he said to them.

"Right on, Troy", Asher said, "Call me paranoid, but I don't think this is a coincidence."

"I hear you, kiddo", Harrison replied, "Something's up. I think we just have to figure out what."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Car Four**

_Apartment of Sunny Tran  
The Wards  
11:00 PM_

Detective Sunny Tran was suddenly awakened by the musical ringtone of her cell phone. She promptly shot up out of bed and checked her phone to see who could've possibly been calling her that late at night. She sighed when she noticed the call was from her partner, Detective Troy Harrison, and answered.

"Troy", she said with a very groggy tone, "What's going on?"

"Hey Sunny", Harrison replied from his end of the line, "It sounds like I woke you. I'm sorry to call this late."

Tran held her phone on her shoulder as she scrambled to get dressed expeditiously. "Don't worry about it", she said, "I'm on call tonight anyway."

"Have you seen the news?" Harrison asked, "About the murders and the blackout at May Stadium?"

With that, Tran grabbed her TV remote off the nightstand and turned on her flat screen TV, tuning it to the local WKZ news station. "No", she replied as she glanced at her alarm clock, "I've been asleep for the last four hours or so. Hang on."

WKZ News nighttime field reporter Richard Head was on screen. Head was a very smug-looking white man with very obviously artificially tanned skin who was dressed in a very dull beige trench coat. He began speaking as soon as he was prompted by the anchor reporter.

"Thank you, David and Barbara", he said, referring to the two nighttime anchor reporters, "It's a scene of utter confusion and chaos here at Parker Square's iconic May Stadium tonight as Chicago Police are struggling with not only a sudden power outage but also several apparent murders which occurred on the premises sometime this evening. Police on the scene are remaining tight-lipped about any details at this time, but sources tell me that there was an unusually heavy police presence here at the stadium tonight. More details to follow in the morning. For WKZ Nightly News, this is Richard Head reporting live. Back to you in the studio."

With that, Tran clicked off her TV, pulled on a pair of blue jeans, and draped a brown button-down sweater over the white cotton tank top she was wearing, all the while still holding the phone on her shoulder. "Holy shit", Tran said, "Exactly how much is 'several murders'?"

"Abby and I just happened to be here at the ballgame when we heard a call about a Code Five-Eddie go out over the zone", Harrison explained, "We went downstairs and found seven bodies all laid out in a corridor. Personnel from the Thirty-First District and the Ivory Tower are all up and through this damn stadium now."

"The news said that the power went out too, huh?" Tran asked.

Harrison scoffed. "Yeah", he said with a very exasperated tone in his voice, "the technicians at the power company determined that it was some sort of technological breach. In other words, the entire portion of the power grid suppling Parker Square was somehow hacked."

"Do you have any idea who could've done something like that?" Tran asked.

"Not offhand", Harrison replied, "But the CtOS Task Force has been put on a crisis alert. Doctor Bartholomew and the team are looking into things now. I actually need a favor from you if you don't mind, Sunny."

"I'm your partner, Troy", Tran said reassuringly, "Don't ever be afraid to ask me for help. What do you need?"

"Abby and I think there's some shady shit going down here", Harrison admitted, "I mean, more than seven dead gangbangers and a power outage. It might not be the best idea to meet up at the district. Do you know a place that's private but still spacious enough for us to meet up and go over things?"

"Yeah", Tran said, "I still have a key to my parents' restaurant and bakery in Chinatown. They have a back room that they use for staff meetings. I'd have to call my dad and ask for permission, but it shouldn't be an issue. It's called Tran Lotus Restaurant and Bakery."

"Cool", Harrison said, "Call Voight, Olinsky, our squad, Lieutenant Broussard, and Commander Brooks if you could. We need all available hands, and Abby's here with me now, so we'll meet you there in an hour. And please apologize to your folks on my behalf for waking them up this late."

"No problem", Tran said, "See you then."

"Thanks, Sunny" Harrison said, "I owe you big time."

_Tran Lotus Restaurant and Bakery  
Chinatown  
1 Hour Later_

Harrison and Asher arrived at the Tran Family's modest storefront restaurant and bakery in Chinatown, only to be met by the presence of a large metal security gate and a "CLOSED" sign on the door. Asher saw a doorbell next to the gated entrance and pressed the button. A loud beeping sound was heard and promptly followed by a man's voice coming from the small speaker above the bell.

"Are you Chicago Police?" the accented male voice said through the speaker.

Harrison nodded his head in the direction of the camera once he noticed it, at which point Asher took her badge from her pocket and displayed it in front of the camera. "Yes sir", she said, "I'm Detective Asher and this gentleman here with me is Detective Harrison." Harrison followed suit and held up his own badge to the camera.

"Mister Tran I presume?" Harrison asked, "Your daughter Sunny is my partner. She asked us to meet her here."

The metal security gate was soon raised. Bao Tran stood behind it, still holding the large wooden pole he used to move the gate. Mr. Tran was a short Vietnamese man appearing to be in his mid-sixties with balding gray hair and coke bottle glasses. He was still dressed in his plaid pajamas.

"Mister Tran?" Harrison inquired once more.

Bao Tran politely extended a hand. "Yes", he said, "I'm Bao Tran. It's a great pleasure to meet the both of you, Detectives. My daughter speaks highly of the both of you."

Harrison reciprocated the man's gesture. "Troy Harrison, sir", he said, "And the pleasure is all mine."

Asher then took her turn shaking the man's hand. "Hi Mister Tran", she said, "I'm Abby Asher. So nice to finally meet you."

"Please come in", Mr. Tran said as he stepped back inside the bakery, letting the detectives make their way in behind him. "The other police officers are already here", he said, "Sunny opened the alleyway entrance door for them. Plus, two other gentlemen just arrived. One of them is wearing an FBI jacket."

"They would be my colleagues from the task force I work with", Harrison said, "I hope that all of us meeting here at such a late an hour isn't too much of an imposition for you or your wife."

"Oh", Mr. Tran said, "Don't be silly, Detective. My wife is already serving them breakfast and coffee in the back room."

Mr. Tran ushered the two detectives through his main bakery and dining room area, through the kitchen, and into the back room. Asher and Harrison were surprised to see everyone that they had summoned seated around a long folding table taking up the entire center of the back room. Tham Tran, Bao Tran's wife and Sunny's mother, worked her way around the table, serving each person Styrofoam cups of coffee and plates of Vietnamese rice rolls.

Mrs. Tran was a very kindly woman of medium height, also in her mid-sixties, with very striking dark hair. She was always sporting her finest makeup, jewelry and clothes, no matter what time of the day or night it was. On this evening, she was dressed in a very proper-looking flowered blouse with a light-colored skirt and pink house shoes.

Seated at the table were Captain Broussard, Detectives Dobbs and Brooks, Commander Darren Brooks, Detectives Voight and Olinsky, CtOS Task Force members Agent McCain and Dr. Bartholomew, and Detective Machado. Seated beside him was a short-haired blonde woman Harrison didn't immediately recognize, someone appearing to be close in age to his captain who was dressed in a navy-blue sweater and blue jeans, sporting a CPD Lieutenant's badge on a chain around her neck.

"Ah Detectives", Captain Broussard said as he noticed Harrison and Asher's entrance, "We've been waiting on you." He motioned across to the table to the sweater-clad Lieutenant. "Detective Harrison, this is my wife, Lieutenant Kathy Broussard. She's in charge of Narcotics."

Harrison went over and shook the Lieutenant's hand graciously. "Nice to meet you, Lieutenant", he said, "Abby and Ernie have told me good things about you."

Lieutenant Broussard reciprocated Harrison's gesture, shaking his hand just as firmly. "Abby and my husband have spoken just as highly of you, Detective. It's nice to meet you as well."

After Harrison and Asher took their own seats at the table, Detective Tran motioned to her mother. "Detectives Harrison and Asher", she said, "I'd like you to meet my mother, Tham Tran". She then motioned back from her mother to Harrison. "Mama", she said, "This is my new partner, Troy Harrison, and Abby Asher from the Narcotics Unit."

Mrs. Tran came over and shook Harrison's hand before repeating the gesture with Asher. "It's very nice to meet you both", she said, "My daughter speaks very highly of you."

With all the pleasantries now out of the way, the Trans left the room and closed the door behind them. "Okay", Harrison began, "I appreciate everyone being able to be here at this late hour. I assume everybody's met Doctor Neal Bartholomew and Special Agent Dean McCain from the CtOS Task Force, right?"

Nine out of the ten people seated at the table nodded affirmatively before Asher spoke up. "I haven't", she said as she waved to Bartholomew and McCain, "Detective Abby Asher, CPD Narcotics. Nice to meet you guys."

"The pleasure's all ours, Detective", McCain replied.

Harrison briefly chuckled before clearing his throat. "Could you guys please take the floor and explain things for all of us, please?" he asked.

Dr. Bartholomew and Agent McCain stepped to the head of the table at the front of the room. A laptop and high-definition TV monitor were set up so everyone could see what was shown on the laptop. Agent McCain typed and clicked a few things, and when Bartholomew turned on the monitor, a digital map of the Parker Square power grid was viewed on the screen. The areas affected by the temporary power outage were shaded in red.

"At approximately Eight-Thirty this evening", Bartholomew began explaining, "The troubleshooters at the power company registered a critical outage alert on the Parker Square power grid, specifically the immediate area around May Stadium. This, in turn, alerted us at the CtOS Task Force and we immediately began inquiring into the incident, believing it to be a possibly intentional cyber intrusion and attack."

"As you all know", McCain chimed in, "The outage lasted approximately five minutes before power was restored to full capacity. However, our analysts at CtOS did discover that this was not just a simple electrical surge or glitch. However brief, this outage was indeed the result of a deliberate cyber intrusion."

"Made from where?" Captain Broussard asked.

"We originally believed that someone tried to either hack in to the neighborhood power station remotely", Bartholomew elaborated, "Or hack in directly from inside the power station itself. My own analysis determined that the former scenario was the correct one. Somebody was able to breach the power station, and subsequently the grid control, using a pay-as-you-go burner phone and May Stadium's free Wi-Fi signal."

"Wait a minute", Hank Voight said, "You're telling us that some hacker guy was able to temporarily shut off the power in an entire neighborhood with just a burner phone and some free goddamn Wi-Fi? Unbelievable."

"Were you able to determine who it was that caused the outage?" Alvin Olinsky asked.

Agent McCain sighed deeply before answering. "That's the thing, Detective", he said, "After the power came back on, we immediately starting mapping out the cellular tower data for everybody in and around the stadium. There were approximately Forty-Two-Thousand active cell phones inside the stadium premises before the power went out. When it was restored, there were Forty-One-Thousand-Nine Hundred-Ninety-Nine."

"So, you guys think that the odd cell phone out is our burner", Harrison said, "and by default, our hacker?"

"Correct", Bartholomew said, "We were able to get the number for that specific phone from the data that presented before the outage. Unfortunately, when we ran the number, it just came back to a batch of burner phones sold at a gas station in Parker Square. That's probably where our suspect bought it, so we have a pending warrant request for their surveillance footage."

"I understand the importance of all this", Voight said as he turned to Harrison, "But why are we all here this late at night, Troy? What's with the cloak-and-dagger routine?"

"That's another thing, Hank", Harrison replied frankly before turning to Bartholomew and McCain. "May I?" he asked as he motioned to where the two men stood.

Bartholomew and McCain nodded and politely stepped aside. Harrison stepped to the front of the room to address everyone as a hole. "As I'm sure you all know by now", he began, "Just before the power went out, a Code Five-Eddie call went out over the Citywide channel reporting a disturbance at the stadium. Abby and I were already there watching the game, so we took it upon ourselves to personally respond. We found the bodies of seven gang members in a lower-level corridor as well as evidence of a brutal assault in the White Sox locker room. Based on their tattoos, all the of the deceased appear to have been members of the Black Viceroys."

"Troy called Al and I in to help him and Abby work the scene", Voight added, "Our unit's been investigating the Viceroys for the last month or so. All the victims were Hispanic males in their late teens to early twenties. By all accounts, they represented a Viceroys set based in The Wards. Four were apparently shot with a nine-millimeter handgun while the other three were stabbed in either the chest or the gut, rather efficiently according to the Medical Examiner."

"So", Commander Brooks chimed in, "Some professional assassin is keeping a live hostage inside the locker room. He apparently beats the hell out of him before being intercepted somehow by our Black Viceroys. The assassin goes on the defensive and takes them all out with both a knife and a gun before taking his hostage and blowing that pop stand. So, is our hacker also the assassin? Or were there two separate people there in addition to the hostage?"

"Any progress identifying the potential hostage?" Lieutenant Broussard asked.

Detective Brooks grabbed a file folder from the center of the table and pulled it toward himself. "I have those lab results right here, ma'am", he replied as he opened the folder and scanned the results. He then got a very surprised look on his face. "Oh my God", he exclaimed before looking to Captain Broussard and his father, Commander Brooks.

"What's wrong, son?" Commander Brooks asked.

"Dad", Detective Brooks said, "You remember Maurice Vega? That suspect we've been looking for in connection with the Maxwell King murder?"

"The dead drug dealer who lived above the pawn shop", Commander Brooks recounted, "Yeah."

"According to this", Detective Brooks replied, "Maurice Vega's blood, hair, and saliva were all over that locker room. He's the hostage."

"And Vega did associate with the Viceroys", Captain Broussard said, "so I guess the theory now is, Vega put out a distress call to the Viceroys and they came to save him only to be taken out by our assassin."

"I think there's more to this equation, Captain", Asher chimed in, "And I think that's what Troy's been trying to get to this whole time. When we called for backup after discovering what went down in that corridor, some of the CPD brass from the Ivory Tower responded awfully fast along with Lieutenant Henderson and Officer DeYoung from the Thirty-First."

"Which brass are we talking about?" Lieutenant Broussard asked.

"Lieutenant Forsberg, Sergeant Goodwin and Officer Milne", Asher replied.

"So, you're telling us that a who's-who of Ivory Tower command staff was already there before you guys even put out the call?" Dobbs asked.

"It looks that way, Dobbs", Asher said, "We thought at first that First Deputy Superintendent Barron was on scene too and that they were just tagging along, but Lieutenant Henderson said that he saw no sign of the First Deputy the entire time he was holding down the scene."

"Did you guys see him at all while you were there?" Captain Broussard asked.

"No sir", Harrison replied, "In fact, Lieutenant Henderson confided his suspicions to Abby and I about seeing Forsberg, Goodwin, and Milne talking to Joseph DeMarco just before we came up to the VIP area."

"Joseph DeMarco?" Olinsky asked, "That weird hipster artist guy who took over that old theater?"

"Yeah", Harrison replied, "Henderson told us that the folks at Organized Crime are looking at him because of a rumored connection to the Chicago South Club."

An idea then struck Harrison. "Hang on a second", he said before turning to Agent McCain. "Dean? Can you pull up CtOS camera footage from the parking areas at May Stadium? Concentrate on about forty-five minutes before that initial radio call went out."

"Yeah", McCain said as he acquired the desired footage, which in turn was shown on the monitor for everyone to see. He noted the presence of a black 2007 Chevrolet Tahoe LTZ SUV on the footage, positioned in the parking lot that would allow the easiest eventual ingress to the VIP area. As the footage showed, the vehicle had arrived at exactly 7:10 PM that night. A man in a white CPD uniform exited the vehicle's backseat and made his way inside the closest rear entrance. The vehicle and its driver stayed put inside the car for approximately 45 minutes. At 7:55 PM, the uniformed officer exited into the parking lot and reentered the Tahoe, at which the vehicle drove off into the night.

"Can you get a read on a license plate for us?" Harrison asked.

McCain rewound the footage and magnified the Tahoe's rear license plate, resulting in a crystal-clear image of the plate number. "Chicago Police plates", he said, "Mary-Paul-Two-Eight-Nine." He then opened another tab and ran the plate number. "It's registered to a Chevy Tahoe assigned as the work vehicle of First Deputy Superintendent of Police Walter Barron."

"So, what does all this mean?" Lieutenant Broussard asked.

"I think there are two situations rolled up into one here, guys", Commander Brooks said, "I'm going to call a meeting with the Superintendent at the Ivory Tower tomorrow and see if I can get an explanation about Barron." He then turned to Captain Broussard and his wife. "John, Kathy", he continued, "I want your squads working together on the stadium murders and the kidnapping. I'll square things with the Thirty-First District."

The commander then turned to Voight and Olinsky. "Ron Perry's your Commander at the Twenty-First, right?" he asked.

"Yeah", Voight replied.

"I want you guys to fill him in about the stadium incidents first thing tomorrow", Commander Brooks said, "But leave the First Deputy out of it for now. I don't want things stirred up in case Barron's in the clear. Until we know the whole story, I want you all to remain tight-lipped to anyone at CPD about his presence there that night."

Everyone nodded in response to the Commander's order. Whether they liked it or not, things could possibly become quite rocky for all of them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Too Many Directions**

_[Author's Note: Before we begin this next chapter, I just want to acknowledge the current state of the world that we're in. According to recent media reports, cases of Coronavirus have increased in Chicago. I myself don't actually live in Chicago, but my family and I have been in precautionary self-quarantine for the last 3 weeks or so. I also haven't been able to work at my hospital volunteer job for a while now, so I can't imagine what people in bigger cities like Chicago, New York, and especially countries such as China or Italy are going through. At the risk of sounding a bit cliché, we're all going through this together and I just want to say to the people of the real Chicago and the other aforementioned places, keep your heads up everybody and I wish the best for you all! You're in our prayers! Finally, thank you to all our essential workers, medical staff, and first responders for doing what you can to keep us healthy and safe during this very uncertain time.] _

_Chicago Police Headquarters  
Office of Superintendent Arthur Daniels  
The Next Morning  
8:00 AM_

Commander Darren Brooks knocked on the large glass office door of Superintendent Arthur Daniels at Chicago's Police Headquarters, known to CPD officers as "The Ivory Tower".

"Come in", a male voice said from inside the office.

The uniform-clad Brooks entered the office to find Superintendent Arthur Daniels sitting at his desk. Daniels was a very tall African-American man in his mid-fifties dressed in a black CPD dress uniform adorned with the various service medals he had earned throughout his 31 years of service, the most obvious compensation being the very position he was in as Superintendent of Police.

Commander Brooks then stood at attention and formally saluted his boss, a gesture known in the police community as "presenting arms". "Good morning, Superintendent", he said, "I appreciate you being able to see me this early, sir."

Superintendent Daniels put a hand up. "No need for formalities, Commander", he said, "How can I help you and your people at the Thirty-Fourth District?"

Brooks sat down in a chair in front of Daniels' desk and pulled it closer. "Two of our detectives may have stumbled onto something that may have potential repercussions for you all here at the Ivory Tower. Have you heard about the blackout and the murder victims that were found at May Stadium last night?"

Daniels nodded. "I have, yes", he replied, "What about it?"

"We have this new Homicide detective at our district, Troy Harrison…" Brooks said.

"I've met him", Daniels interrupted, "Ex-FBI. Trained profiler, smart guy. I hired him personally."

"I remember you saying that before, sir", Brooks said, "He has this good friend, a rookie Narcotics detective named Abigail Asher. The two of them apparently grew up together in Vermont. They were at the baseball game last night and stumbled upon the murders and were there when the blackout occurred. As you know, Detective Harrison is part of the CtOS Task Force and he got them to investigate things for us. We stumbled onto some footage that could be considered incriminating. I wanted to come to you first."

A very troubled look came across the Superintendent's face. "Where's this going, Darren?" Daniels asked.

"With all due respect", Brooks began, "What do you know about how First Deputy Barron spends his time off the job, sir?"

Daniels shrugged his shoulders. "I know some things", he replied very frankly, "He and I play poker together once a month with some of the brass from the Fire Department. He has a wife, Sheila, who teaches high school math. They have teenage twin daughters named Faith and Destiny. Shall I continue?"

"Let me get to the point, sir", Brooks said, "We caught some of your command staff, including First Deputy Barron, on surveillance at the stadium around the time of the blackout. Harrison, Asher, Lieutenant Deon Henderson, and this young patrolman named DeYoung all saw them there. We caught Barron on camera footage just before the bodies were found and the blackout occurred."

"Again, Commander", Daniels cut him off once again, "I have to ask, what exactly is the point you're trying to make here?"

"We have reason to believe that Barron and the other members of the brass were in close contact with a guy named Joseph DeMarco", Brooks replied, "He's some kind of artist who's being investigating by the guys at Organized Crime for possibly being affiliated with Lucky Quinn and the Chicago South Club."

Though very perturbed at the Commander's insinuation, Superintendent Daniels sighed away his anger and calmed himself. "If you're thinking what I believe you to be thinking, Darren", he said with a tone that was a bewildering mix of shaky and confident, "The blunt truth is, I really don't know what Wally Barron does off the job aside from the things I just mentioned. The man is a goddamn island."

"I get that, Art", Brooks said, "This is Chicago in the new millennium. Everybody's got secrets. What I'm wondering is, if his skeletons are pulled out of the closet, are you going to be prepared to get in front of everything and have our backs?"

Daniels nodded his head affirmatively and without any hesitation. "Absolutely", he replied, "If it's determined without a shadow of a doubt that Walter Barron has in any way violated the law, or even CPD procedure for that matter, I'll fire or even arrest him myself if I have to."

Commander Brooks rose from his seat and extended a hand to the Superintendent. "That's all I wanted, sir", he said, "And I have every confidence that my detectives will find something if something is to be found."

Daniels shook the Commander's hand. "I have no doubt, Commander", he said, "Just tell them to tread lightly and be careful for now."

_Homicide Squad Room  
CPD District 34  
11:30 AM_

Detectives Harrison and Tran busily typed away at their respective computers, trying to lose themselves in their work to avoid approaching the difficult subject that was the dark shadow of possible corruption on the part of CPD's First Deputy Superintendent.

"Have you had any luck finding a new place other than that motel of yours?" Tran asked Harrison, trying to make small talk.

Not taking his gaze from his computer, Harrison shook his head. "I can't say as I've had the time to really look lately", Harrison replied candidly, "I had my eye on a duplex apartment in Wicker Park, but the rent was way too high for my liking. But you're right, I can't stay in that shabby motel room forever."

Tran leaned back in her wheeled leather office chair for a moment and thought to herself. "You and Abby grew up in that small town in Vermont, right?" she asked after a minute or so of thought, "What was it called again?"

Harrison finally took his eye off his own work for the moment, leaning back in his own chair and returning his partner's gaze. "Winterville", he replied, "It's a little town on the Connecticut River that's also on the state line with New Hampshire. Why?"

"There's this small town about ten minutes outside the city called Pawnee", Tran explained, "Scenery-wise, it doesn't even feel like you're anywhere close to Chicago. There are lots of nice cottages, plenty of water access for fishing, a small hotel, and a cozy little bar."

Harrison pondered Tran's suggestion for a moment. "Sounds very quaint", he said, "You know any of the realtors over there?"

With that, Tran opened the top drawer of her desk and took out a business card, bringing it to Harrison. "This guy's name is Scott Kaslov", she said, "He has a realty office right in Pawnee. Give him a call and hopefully he can help you out."

Harrison nodded with an appreciative grin as he took the card and examined it. "I just might do that", he said, "Thanks. How do you know this Kaslov dude?"

"We dated for about two years until last summer", Tran replied.

Just then, Harrison's desk phone rang. "Sounds like there's a story there", he said, "But it doesn't look like we have the time to go over it at the moment." He picked up the receiver. "Harrison", he said into the phone.

"Yo, Harrison", the familiarly deep voice of Monty Jones replied from his end of the line, "It's me, Monty. My guy I told you about came through. I think I found you a solid lead on where this Maurice Vega dude might be."

Harrison had to obviously conceal his knowledge of Maurice Vega's apparent assault and kidnapping, but nevertheless he grabbed a legal pad and a pen. "Okay Monty", he said, "Go ahead."

"My man says that your boy is squatting at the abandoned library in East Garfield Park", Monty explained, "That's on the West Side in case you aren't familiar. The exact address is Three-Twenty-One West Washington Boulevard. Is that good enough?"

"Yeah man", Harrison replied as he tore the page off the pad and handed it to Tran, "That should be good enough for now. Thanks, Monty, and thank your man for us while you're at it, would you?"

"No problem, brother", Monty said, "Anything else you guys need, I got you. Peace." He then hung up before Harrison could thank him for some reason, at which point Harrison hung up his own receiver and got up from his chair.

Tran studied the piece of paper. "Monty came through for us I take it?" she asked.

Harrison nodded as he threw on his coat. "Yep", he said, "His buddy gave us a possible last known address for Maurice Vega. I didn't tell him about the stadium thing and the fact that Vega may have been kidnapped, but who knows, that may have been where his kidnapper snatched him from."

"So", Tran said, "This address is an apartment building or something, then?"

"Monty said that the address is to an abandoned library", Harrison said as he took his cell phone from his pocket, "I'm going to call Voight and fill him in."

"Okay", Tran replied as she took out her own cell phone, "Dobbs and Brooks are on a lunch break across the street. I'll call them and have them meet us over there."

Harrison nodded as he dialed Voight's cell number. "Voight", Hank Voight answered after a few rings.

"Hey Hank", Harrison greeted, "It's Troy Harrison. My informant gave us a lead on a possible last known address for Maurice Vega. It's an abandoned library at Three-Two-One West Washington Boulevard in East Garfield Park. Sunny and I think that could give us some evidence as to who kidnapped him."

"Al and I are at the courthouse today waiting to give our testimonies on another case", Voight said, "We can't leave right now. Tell you what, though. I know a female patrolman who works that area. I'll give her a call and see if she and her partner can back you guys up."

"We'd appreciate that, Hank", Harrison said, "That'd be great. What's her name?"

"Erin", he said, "Erin Lindsay."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Connecting Webs**

_Martin Van Buren Public Library  
East Garfield Park  
Later That Afternoon_

Detectives Harrison, Tran, Dobbs, and Brooks pulled their identical-looking unmarked police cars into the abandoned and quite decrepit Martin Van Buren Public Library, located in the East Garfield Park neighborhood on Chicago's West Side. Harrison took note that the marked CPD patrol car that he and Tran had parked their vehicle behind was from District 13. The four Homicide detectives promptly exited their vehicles, at which point two female uniformed patrol officers followed suit and came out of their own vehicle. One of the female officers was a very appealing short-haired, brown-eyed brunette with blonde highlights in her hair.

"I take it you guys are the Homicide detectives from District Thirty-Four?" the appealing policewoman asked, extending a hand to Harrison.

Harrison shook the officer's hand warmly. "That's us", he said before motioning to his squad mates, "I'm Detective Troy Harrison. These are Detectives Sunny Tran, Nick Brooks, and Julius Dobbs."

"Nice to meet you all", the officer said, "I'm Officer Erin Lindsay with the Thirteenth District." She gestured to her partner who stood on the other side of the car outside the passenger door. "This is my partner", she said, "Officer Vicki Tate."

"Hello", Tate said. Officer Tate was a heavyset older officer appearing to be in her mid-forties. Her red hair was done up in a very orderly French braid. "So, Hank Voight said you guys needed some backup", she continued, "What's the story with this old library? It's been abandoned for about ten years."

"We've been searching for a murder suspect for the last couple days", Tran chimed in as she removed a printed photo of Maurice Vega from her pocket and showed it to the officers, "His name's Maurice Vega, twenty-six-year-old male Hispanic weighing roughly a hundred and thirty pounds. He's a thug for hire that we're looking at for the murder of Maxwell King."

"Mister King was killed in our district approximately three nights ago", Brooks added, "The victim's landlord saw someone matching Vega's description entering his apartment with him on the night of the murder. We found the body about half an hour to an hour afterward, and the crime lab techs found Vega's prints all over the apartment, including on the lamp that was used to beat King to death. An informant told Detective Harrison that Vega could possibly be squatting here at the library."

Lindsay nodded. "That fits", she said, "We're always getting calls about homeless people here. Fights, drugs, that kind of stuff."

Harrison nodded and motioned to the building with a nod. "Let me guess", he said, "This place only has one way in and one way out, huh?"

"Correct", Tate said as she pointed to a large plywood board that apparently functioned as a makeshift door for the building, "Squatters are constantly ripping down that big board there, sometimes even faster than the city maintenance workers are able to come and fix it."

Detective Dobbs emerged from the back of his and Brooks' unmarked car with a crowbar in his hand. "That shouldn't be a problem", he said with a big, cunning grin on his face.

The four detectives and two patrol officers then lined up in front of the plywood entrance, with Harrison and Dobbs at the forefront. Dobbs slid the pronged end of the crowbar just beneath the right-side corner of the thick board and easily pried it off, sliding it aside for the time being. Everyone else made soon their way inside in a very calculated and tactical manner with their guns drawn and flashlights illuminating every visible corner.

"Chicago PD!" Officer Lindsay called out in a very authoritative tone, "Anybody in here better put their hands in plain view!"

As everyone slowly advanced further into the abandoned library, they found themselves in what used to be the building's main room, but apparently was now being used as a sort of communal bunkroom, as every person's flashlight beam seemed to land on more and more ramshackle cots constructed out of everything from cardboard to old mattresses. There appeared to be cots between every looted and sparsely filled old wooden bookshelf in the room.

Harrison and Tran found their way to one of the few empty cots in the big room, at which point Harrison donned a pair of blue nitrile exam gloves and knelt down beside a pair of dirty mattresses stacked on top of one another. There was a very well-used black leather billfold sitting on the floor, which Harrison flipped open with his gloved pinky finger. The expired Illinois driver's license inside belonged to Maurice Vega.

"Hey guys!" Harrison called out to the others, "I've got an old wallet over here. It's got Maurice Vega's ID in it. Looks like he was crashing here at some point."

As everyone else made their way over to Harrison and Tran, they were suddenly startled when a dirty blanket on the cot beside Vega's started to move. "Chicago Police!" Harrison called out as he trained his gun on the cot, "Show me your hands now! I want to see those hands!"

Two pale, dry hands almost immediately appeared from beneath the filthy green blanket. The unexpected sight of a short blonde, pale, and considerably skinny preteen girl of around twelve was revealed to them as she reluctantly stood upright with her hands raised. "Please", the meek-voiced young girl said, "Please don't shoot."

Harrison exhaled with relief as he quickly holstered his gun and held his own hands out as if to beckon the girl's forgiveness. "I'm sorry, honey", he said with more warmth in his voice, "It's okay. My name's Troy." He pointed to his CPD Detective's badge he had clipped to his belt. "I'm a police officer", he said before motioning to his colleagues in the room, "All these other people here with me are police officers too."

"We're not going to hurt you, sweetheart", Lindsay said with an equal amount of tenderness in her tone, "My name's Erin. What's yours?"

"Becca", the girl said.

Officer Lindsay sat down on the edge of Becca's now empty cot to meet her at her level. "Well", she said, "It's nice to meet you, Becca. Are you here by yourself?"

The young girl lowered her head and frowned. "My mom and dad were here before I went to sleep. Did you find them here too?"

Lindsay shook her head. "No sweetie", she said, "We didn't. If you had to guess, where do you think they'd be right now?"

"My dad goes around the city looking for old metal", Becca replied, "he says that's how he gets money for us."

Harrison nodded. "I see", he said, "and what does your mom do?"

"She goes to stores and gets clothes for us", Becca replied.

When she said this, Dobbs noted the presence of sale tags still attached to the girl's pink camouflage-print pajama top. There were bar codes and unique metal buttons pinned to the tag. He knelt down to Harrison's ear. "It looks like Mom shoplifts", he whispered, "She's probably a booster. She swipes clothes from stores and what she doesn't give to the kid or her man, she probably sells on the street."

Harrison excused himself from the conversation and went to a corner of the room with Dobbs. "I hear you, man", he said in a soft voice, "I have an idea. Check with OEMC and see how many shoplifting calls came in from this general area this morning. Focus on any calls with a single female perp and send a patrolman to every one of those locations. I can't imagine Becca's mom strayed very far from here."

Dobbs nodded and took out his cell phone to make the call. Meanwhile, Harrison returned to Becca and Lindsay. "Becca", he said to the little girl, "Do you know any of the places around here that your dad would go to look for the old metal?"

The young girl nodded. "The only place he's ever told me about is the old garage", Becca said, "We can walk there from here."

"There's an abandoned auto body shop a block and a half away", Officer Tate chimed in, "That's probably the place she's talking about."

Officer Lindsay nodded in agreement, then turned her attention back to Becca. "Okay Becca", she said, "Have you ever been to the Baptist church here in the neighborhood?"

"Yeah", Becca replied, "They give us food there sometimes, and Pastor Dave lets me babysit some of the kids while their parents have lunch on Sundays."

"Why don't I take you over there?" Lindsay suggested, "You can stay there for a while we have some other policemen look for your mom and dad."

Becca then gave the officer a very worried frown. "Are you going to arrest them?" she anxiously asked, "Did they do something bad?"

Though reluctant, Lindsay shook her head. "No honey", she said, "We just want to find them to let them know you're okay."

Becca sighed. "Okay", she said, "I guess I'll go to the church."

Lindsay smiled. "Okay", she said, "Do you have anything that you want to bring with you?"

Becca turned and picked up an overstuffed and very worn out pink backpack. "All my stuff is in here", she said, "Whenever we have to go somewhere, I always take it with me."

Harrison smiled, impressed by the young girl's maturity and confidence, but was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

"Harrison", Dobbs said.

Harrison turned around to face his fellow detective. "Yeah?"

"Patrol's out looking for Becca's folks", Dobbs said, "OEMC put three district cars on it. Captain Broussard just texted me, he needs to pull Brooks and I off of this for now to go help out with another call in the Thirty-First District."

Harrison rose to a stand and nodded. "Okay", he said, "Sunny and I can hold things down here. I'll call the Crime Lab and have them collect the rest of Vega's stuff. Could you text the captain back and tell him we'll be back at the district as soon as the lab techs leave?"

"You got it, bro", Dobbs said reassuringly.

Harrison knelt down to Becca just as she was getting ready to leave with Officers Lindsay and Tate. "You did a really good job today, honey", he said, smiling, "You were such a big help. Thank you."

Becca giggled. "You're welcome", she said sweetly, "Are you coming with me to the church too?"

"Sorry kiddo", he said, "My partner and I have to stay here for a bit and make sure everything's safe. But if you want to talk to me again or if you remember anything else, tell Erin here and she can call me right away." He handed Lindsay one of his business cards.

"Okay", Becca said.

"See you later sweetie!" Harrison said as he watched Becca and the two officers go out the door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Right Above Me**

_Public Parking Garage  
Parker Square  
30 Minutes Later_

Detectives Julius Dobbs and Nick Brooks arrived at what looked to be a very frenzied scene on a busy Parker Square street right near a large public parking garage. Fire engines and an ambulance from the Chicago Fire Department were on hand, as well as several patrol cars from CPD's District 31. Dobbs parked their own unmarked car just behind one of the patrol cars, at which point the two detectives exited the vehicle and were immediately met by uniformed Officer James DeYoung.

"How you guys doing?" DeYoung said to them, extending a hand, "James DeYoung with the Thirty-First."

"Detective Julius Dobbs, Thirty-Fourth District Homicide", Dobbs said as he shook the officer's hand, "Nice to meet you, Patrolman."

Brooks then reciprocated the same gesture with DeYoung. "Detective Nick Brooks", he said, "How you doing?"

"Good thanks", DeYoung said, "When I called your captain, I kind of expected Detective Harrison to show up. I met him and that lady detective, Asher, at that stadium thing the other night."

"He and his partner are chasing down leads for another case on the West Side today", Dobbs said, "So Captain Broussard put us on this. How can we help you?"

DeYoung motioned to a very badly wrecked white 1995 BMW 325i sedan, the smoldering engine of which was being extinguished by a hose-carrying firefighter. "CFD responded to a call about a bad car accident about ten minutes ago", DeYoung began to explain, "They found this Beamer smashed up pretty bad. I responded as well and ran the plates. It's registered to a forty-one-year-old man named Frank Janson. He's a small business owner with an address a couple blocks from here."

"Why'd you feel the need to call our district to help?" Brooks asked.

"It seems that Mister Janson had business connections to people in The Wards", DeYoung replied, "So I figured you guys would want a heads-up in case this turned into anything major."

Just then, a pair of paramedics wheeled a gurney holding a very battered man clad in a dark business suit from within the adjacent parking garage. The two detectives and the officer moved aside slightly so they could load their patient into the back of the ambulance.

"Is that our Beamer driver?" Dobbs asked.

DeYoung nodded. "Apparently, yeah", he said, "The paramedics found him on the ground level of the parking garage pretty banged up."

Brooks looked toward the wrecked BMW once again. "Okay", he said, "So Mister Janson loses control of his car there. He bangs his head on the steering wheel at the point of impact. When the car comes to rest, he's dazed and disoriented, so he stumbles his way out of the car and somehow makes it into the parking garage before passing out."

"Except for one thing", DeYoung said, "the firemen told me they noticed damage on the rear of the car as well as the front. The rear damage isn't consistent with the accident's impact."

Dobbs nodded. "So, our boy was purposefully rear-ended", he said, "And the subsequent force of the blow caused the accident. Which hospital are they taking him to?"

"Chicago Med", DeYoung replied, "It looks like he has a broken right arm and a concussion."

"DeYoung!" a male voice called from the direction of the parking garage.

DeYoung momentarily glanced over and waved to whomever was calling him before turning back to the detectives. "Excuse me, fellas", he said, "My sergeant wants to see me. I'll be back in a minute."

A few minutes later, DeYoung returned to the detectives with a plastic evidence bag in his hand. Inside the sealed bag was a cell phone that was still on.

"Sergeant Fincher found this inside the garage next to where Mister Janson was laying", he said as he held the bag up for them to see, "The call history includes about a dozen or so calls to one Nicole Pearce. She's a thirty-four-year-old event planner who lives in the High Grove community in Parker Square. She's a single mom with one son, and she's in the CPD database for having reported several harassing phone calls over the last few weeks."

"High Grove is a secure community with its own gate, right?" Brooks asked.

"Yep", Dobbs replied.

Brooks sighed for a second. "Okay", he said, "I've got an idea. Dobbs, why don't we follow up with Miss Pearce and her son?"

"You're thinking our accident victim is her phone harasser", Dobbs replied as he filled in the blanks.

"Yeah I do", Brooks said, "I also think that Mister Janson is a little too uninjured for having just been in a major car accident. Would you mind holding down the scene here for us, Officer DeYoung?"

DeYoung nodded, smiling confidently. "You got it", he said.

As the two detectives headed back to their car, Brooks took his portable radio from his pocket and keyed the mic.

"Thirty-Four-Henry-David to Squad", Brooks said into the radio.

"Go ahead Thirty-Four-Henry-David", a female dispatcher's voice replied from the radio.

"Squad", Brooks said into the radio, "I need a home address for a Miss Nicole Pearce. It's reportedly in the High Grove Community, over."

"Copy", the dispatcher replied back through the radio. "Thirty-Four-Henry-David", she continued a few seconds later, "Be advised, the address you're looking for is Two-Forty-One High Grove Street, over."

"Ten-Four, Squad", Brooks replied, "Be advised, Thirty-Four-Henry-Charlie and myself are on the way to that address. I will radio again when we arrive at the gate for the gate code, over. Thirty-Four-Henry-David out."

_CPD District 34  
1 Hour Later_

Detectives Harrison and Tran returned from investigating the abandoned library in East Garfield Park. While Tran headed upstairs to the Homicide squad room, Harrison approached Desk Sergeant Debbie Mahoney, who was working at the district's front desk.

"Afternoon, Sarge", Harrison greeted warmly.

"Hey Detective", Mahoney replied politely, "How'd things go on the West Side?"

"The Crime Lab techs picked up the rest of Maurice Vega's personal effects from his cot at the old library", Harrison said, "Nothing but a bunch of old clothes and some loose cash. They just logged everything into our evidence room. Have you seen Abby or Ernie today by any chance?"

Sergeant Mahoney nodded. "They went to serve a drug warrant with the SWAT team", she said, "They should be back in a couple hours. Do you want me to tell them you're looking for them?"

"Sure", he said, "But there's no rush. I just wanted to update them on the Vega leads."

"No problem", Mahoney said, "I'll have them come find you as soon as they get back."

"Thanks, Sarge", Harrison replied before heading up the stairs to the Homicide squad room.

Harrison entered the squad room to find his desk phone ringing. He picked up the receiver quickly without even fully sitting down at his desk.

"Homicide", Harrison said into the phone, "Detective Harrison."

"Hi Detective", a female voice greeted from the other end of the line, "This is Officer Erin Lindsay from the Thirteenth District. You guys met me and my partner in East Garfield Park earlier today."

Harrison sat down in his desk chair while still holding the receiver on his shoulder. "Oh yes", he said, "Hi Erin. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I showed a sequential photo array to Becca, that young girl we found in the library", Lindsay explained, "She was able to identify your murder suspect, Maurice Vega, as the person who slept on the cot next to her and her parents."

Harrison smiled. "I see", he said, "That's very good work, Erin. Were the Patrol officers able to find her parents?"

"Yeah", Lindsay replied, "An officer found her mom trying to trade shirts with a clothing peddler three blocks away. She was placed under arrest for shoplifting. Another patrolman found her dad and his buddy eating lunch at a Quinkie's."

Harrison sighed. "The mom being busted is going to be tough for Becca", he said with a discouraged tone in his voice.

"Yeah well", Lindsay began to explain, "I happen to know the Assistant State Attorney assigned to her case. She said she's willing to give the mom a Desk Appearance ticket since she's not listed as a repeat offender. She just has to show up for court on her assigned date."

"That's good", Harrison said, "At least the family can stay together."

"Yeah", Lindsay replied.

"Anyway", Harrison said, "Good work, Officer."

"Thanks", Lindsay said, "If you ever need our help again, don't hesitate to give me a call, okay?"

"Will do", Harrison said, "Thanks again for your help."

"Anytime", Lindsay said, "Bye."

Harrison bid the officer goodbye and hung up the receiver.

"Erin from the Thirteenth, huh?" Tran asked.

"Yeah", Harrison replied, "Becca's mom is going to get a Desk Appearance Ticket for shoplifting and her dad wasn't charged with anything. Becca picked Maurice Vega's picture out of a sequential photo array. Apparently, he was the guy sleeping in the next cot at the old library."

Tran nodded as Detectives Dobbs and Brooks entered the squad room. "Hey guys", she greeted.

"Hey", Dobbs replied.

"You fellas all finished helping out the Thirty-First?" Harrison asked.

"For now," Brooks said as he sat down at his desk, "Your buddy Officer DeYoung sends his regards."

"I heard over the Citywide that it was some sort of car accident", Tran said, "Why would they ask for detectives from another district for that?"

"Well", Dobbs began to explain, "Turns out it may be more than just a car accident. We just got back from the ER at Chicago Med. Our accident victim Frank Janson had a fairly minimal amount of injuries, save for a right arm that was fractured in only two places and a single blow to the back of the head."

Taking in the information, Harrison leaned back in his desk chair and put a hand under his chin contemplatively. "I hate to state the obvious, guys", he said, "But that doesn't seem very consistent with any car accident I've ever heard of."

"Don't get us wrong", Brooks said, "Mister Janson was indeed involved in a pretty bad car accident today, but it seems someone also assaulted him in addition to that. Not only that, but it seems that he had been placing several harassing phone calls to a Nicole Pearce. She's a thirty-four-year-old single mom who lives in the High Grove community with her son, Jackson."

"We went and talked with Miss Pearce and her boy after we finished up at Chicago Med", Dobbs chimed in, "She told us she'd been receiving several harassing phone calls from a male over the past few weeks threatening her life and the safety of her son. The call log on Janson's phone matches up with the calls in question."

Just then, a light bulb went off in Harrison's head. "Wait a minute", Harrison said, "Is their anyone listed as the immediate next of kin for Nicole Pearce?"

Dobbs flipped through his memo book for a moment. "Yeah", he said, "She has one brother, Aiden Pearce."

Harrison's face went pale with realization. "Guys", he said, "Aiden Pierce lives at the Owl Motel in Parker Square. As a matter of fact, he's my neighbor. He lives right above me."

"Wait", Tran said, "You're saying that your upstairs neighbor is a possible suspect in Dobbs and Brooks' assault case from this morning?"

"If not", Harrison said, "I'd say that's one hell of a coincidence."

"We should get over to that motel", Brooks said as he started to get up.

"Hold up, Nick", Harrison said, "I think our potential case against Aiden Pearce is pretty thin. I have to work at the CtOS task force later on tonight. Let them do a deep dive on his background and if there's anything of any substance, I'll fill out the warrant affidavit myself and we can head to my motel first thing tomorrow."

"You're comfortable with letting a suspect possibly get away?" Brooks asked.

"If it means that by us not doing that for now", Harrison said, "Our case against him can fall apart later, yes."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Connections and Changes**

_"__The Aquarium"  
CtOS Control Center  
The Wards  
7:00 PM_

Harrison entered The Aquarium, at which point seemingly every employee in the room turned to notice him.

"What?" he nervously asked as he stepped further into the room. He held up his hands, attempting to feign defensiveness. "I swear I wasn't the one who farted!" he said with a shrewd smirk on his face. Realizing that no one reacted, his expression returned to a more stoic one.

Dr. Bartholomew then stepped to the front of the room. "Are we to understand that your upstairs neighbor is now a viable suspect in a case we're investigating?" he asked in a very strict tone in his voice.

The detective then gave his supervisor a very confused look. "Hold up, Doc", Harrison said, "I was only told that Aiden Pearce was a suspect in an aggravated assault investigation that two of my squad mates were working on. Are you saying that he's possibly a suspect in something that this task force is working on?"

Bartholomew turned toward the largest of the room's observation monitors and pressed a button on the remote control he was holding. A bird's-eye view image of May Stadium appeared the left side of the big screen, while an image showing a complicated cluster of encrypted computer code appeared on the right. "We now think he was our hacker during the May Stadium incidents", he said, "We were able to connect the intricate code algorithm used to black out the stadium that night to one that was used in several white-hat cyber-attacks believed to have been perpetrated by the DeadSec hacker group."

Dean McCain then stood up from his workstation. "We've always thought that Pearce was a member of DeadSec", he explained, "But as you may know, like most hacker groups, they operate with a lot of secrecy."

"Has the FBI been investigating Aiden Pearce for a while now, Dean?" Harrison asked, "Because you're sure making it sound that way."

McCain then sighed and nodded his head, seemingly confirming his colleague's suspicion. "The Bureau first got wind of Pearce a few years back simply because he was the son of an Irish ex-patriate known to have been associated with a militant splinter group that was sympathetic to the Irish Republican Army."

Harrison then held up his hands again, but with more critical intentions this time. "Before we elaborate on anything here", he said as he momentarily stepped behind his workstation and typed something on his computer, "I've set up a web conference between us and my colleagues at CPD."

As Harrison stepped in front of the large monitor screen, a large split-screen web conference board appeared on the screen behind him. The faces of Detectives Voight, Olinsky, Tran, Dobbs, Brooks, Asher, and Machado appeared in each respective screen. Asher and Machado were apparently sitting beside one another in front of Asher's computer in the Narcotics squad room, while the Homicide detectives appeared to all be seated around the conference table in front of a communal computer in the District 34 conference room. Voight and Olinsky, meanwhile, seemed to be seated in front of Olinsky's computer in the Gang Unit squad room at District 21.

"Sorry about the short notice for this web conference everybody", Harrison said as he addressed both the task force members in the room and the conference participants, "but it appears that our revered task force has found a connection between a suspect in our stadium caper from the other night and an assault case that Dobbs and Brooks investigated."

"You're talking about that Janson guy, right?" Detective Dobbs asked.

Harrison nodded. "Yeah", he said, "We believe that Frank Janson has a connection to someone we're looking at as a suspect in that stadium caper that Detective Asher and I stumbled into the other night."

"In what way, Troy?" Detective Asher asked inquisitively.

"We found Mister Janson's cell phone on the scene", Detective Brooks started to explain from his side of the screen, "The call log indicated multiple calls to a lady named Nicole Pearce."

"We spoke to Miss Pearce later that afternoon", Dobbs chimed in, "She told us that she'd received several harassing calls over the past few weeks from an unknown male who made threats against her life and the life of her ten-year-old son, Jackson. All the calls came from Frank Janson's cell phone."

"Do you think Janson took it upon himself to make the calls just for some creepy thrills?" Detective Voight asked.

"I don't know for certain, Hank", Harrison said candidly, "But it does seem to me that a sleazy businessman like Janson would do anything for a quick buck, even if it was something shady."

"Why do you call him 'sleazy'?" Detective Machado asked.

"We looked into his background after we found out about Dobbs and Brooks' investigation", Dr. Bartholomew replied, "On paper, Janson runs a linen company that vends to hospitals and hotels all around Chicago. However, our check of his IRS business tax records showed that his company hasn't made any sort of major profit in two and a half years."

"So, Janson's company's going to shit", Olinsky surmised, "And he has to keep up appearances as well as keep the company above water. So, he takes crooked jobs on the side and uses whatever proceeds he gets from those to keep his business afloat."

Harrison nodded. "That's a good theory, Alvin", he said, "You guys should all know, Nicole Pearce's brother, Aiden Pearce, is our suspect in both the Janson assault and the stadium caper. He's apparently a very seasoned computer hacker and has been for some time." He motioned to Dean McCain. "Our Agent McCain here tells me that he's been under investigation by the FBI for a while because of his possible connection to the hacker group DeadSec. Dean?"

Dean McCain stood up from his workstation and started reading from the FBI case file he had on hand. "Aiden Pearce is a thirty-nine-year-old white male, about five-foot-ten inches tall, and he weighs about one-thirty", he began, "He was born on February Sixteenth, Nineteen-Seventy-Two in the village of Caseyville, Illinois out in Saint Clair County. His father, Flynn Pearce, came to the US with his wife, Aisling Pearce, from Cork, Ireland back in Seventy-One."

"How were they able to come stateside?" Detective Tran asked.

"That's part of the reason why Flynn Pearce initially showed up on FBI radar", McCain replied, "He and his wife tried to claim asylum after he claimed that they were trying to escape the Irish Republican Army. Immigration granted the request and they were able to stay in America."

"What did your inquiry into Aiden Pearce show?" Voight asked.

"He was an honor student in high school and college", McCain said, "He majored in Computer Science at DePaul University here in Chicago and graduated with a Four-Point-Oh GPA. The ironic thing about all this is that, six months after graduating, he actually landed a job working for the Blume Corporation."

"Wait a minute", Asher chimed in, "You're telling us that this dude who's apparently now working against Blume used to work for them?"

"Yes", McCain said, "Not only that, but he was one of two people who created the original code for the program that would later become our Central Operating system, or CtOS as we all know it by now."

"Huh", Asher said, "That is ironic. How long was he with the company?"

"Until Two-Thousand-Three", McCain explained, "He was fired for what they said were 'unspecified reasons'. Unfortunately, that's where his official trail ends. He hasn't had any known sanctioned employment or income since then, but his bank records show both checking and savings accounts with a combined balance of Five-Hundred-Thousand dollars."

Various looks and exclamations of surprise came from everyone, both those who were physically in the room and those who were in the web conference. "Damn!" Voight said, "Looks like someone's been working under the table. What about his sister, this Nicole Pearce?"

McCain flipped to the second page of reports in the file. "Nicole Pearce", he began "She's a thirty-four-year-old white female. Height of five-foot-six, weight about one-forty. She was born on March Sixth, Nineteen-Seventy-Seven, also in Caseyville and is the second child of Flynn and Aisling Pearce. Graduated high school in Ninety-Five, majored in Public Relations also at DePaul where she graduated with high marks. She went on to have two children, Lena and Jackson Pearce. Unfortunately, she suffered a terrible tragedy about a year ago."

"What happened?" Olinsky asked.

"Apparently", McCain continued, "Aiden Pearce was driving his niece and nephew to Pawnee for a day trip. They were going through a tunnel when an unknown suspect on a motorcycle pulled up alongside them. The suspect produced a handgun and shot out one of the passenger-side rear tires, causing the car to roll over twice rather violently. Aiden and Jackson survived, but Lena didn't. She sustained massive head injuries and was taken off life support two days later."

The conference then fell into a very perceptible moment of saddening silence, as if pausing out of respect for the dearly departed Lena. "How old was she?" a now tearful Asher asked as she momentarily removed her glasses to wipe the tears from her face.

McCain sighed. "Six", he said.

After giving everyone a moment to compose themselves, Harrison managed to regain his own composure and tried to change the subject. "What else do we have on the Pearce family's background, Dean?" he asked McCain.

McCain flipped to the bottom few pages of the file's accumulated contents. "Uh", he stammered for a moment, "Flynn and Aisling Pearce apparently divorced in Nineteen-Ninety-Seven. Mister Pearce then left the United States and repatriated to his native Ireland, where he later died from a sudden heart attack in April of Two-Thousand. Aisling Pearce still lives at the Pearce family farmhouse in Caseyville and has worked as a secretary at the local elementary school for the last ten years."

"Should someone head out to Caseyville and interview the mother?" Voight asked.

Harrison shook his head. "I don't see the point in doing that right now", he said candidly, "I mean, we just named Aiden Pearce as a suspect. When, and if, we have more concrete proof, we should consider that as a possibility."

"Do we even know if this Aiden Pearce is the one responsible for all those killings at May Stadium that night?" Dobbs asked.

On her and Machado's side of the web conference, Asher grabbed a piece of paper off her desk beside the computer. "Based on what I'm looking at here", she chimed in, "I wouldn't exactly say that."

"What've you got, Abby?" Harrison asked.

"I asked the Crime Lab to fax us a copy of the forensic results from May Stadium so I could reference them in my report", Asher said, "Every single body that we found in the corridor that night was covered with hair and DNA belonging to an Asian male."

Harrison nodded. "That may rule out Aiden as the murderer", he said, "but I have an idea about how we can definitively prove that. I'll call the lab in the morning and have them pull Aiden's DNA sample from his niece's death investigation. I'm sure they sampled it back then when they analyzed the wrecked car."

"Until then, Troy", Dr. Bartholomew said, "I want you to tread lightly around Aiden Pearce." He then turned to the web conference screen and addressed the others. "I know I'm not a cop", he said, "Or your supervisor, for that matter. However, I'm going to suggest to you all that you also tread lightly around Aiden Pearce. Until there's any solid proof, I'm going to support Troy's point that we not charge at him full force for now."

"I appreciate that, Doc", Harrison replied before turning to the web conference screen. "What do you say we all call it at night for now?" he continued, "Thanks to all you guys for your input and I'll talk to you all tomorrow at some point."

With that, every one of the web conference participants logged off the conference, with the exception of Asher.

"Hey Troy?" she asked through the screen.

Harrison stopped in his tracks and looked to the screen once again. "Yeah, kid?" he said.

"Can I call you in the morning?" Asher asked, "I've got something that I want to talk to you about privately."

Harrison gave her a thumb's up. "Sure", he said, "I'll probably be up by six."

"Okay", Asher replied, "I'll talk to you then. Bye." The web conference's final screen went black as Asher logged off.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: "Who Are You?"**

_[Author's Note: Just so everyone knows, after this chapter is posted, I'm going to need to take it easy for a while. On May 27, I'm going to be going in for a surgery and will need a few weeks to recuperate. I plan on bringing my computer to the hospital so I can get some writing done, but who knows how I'll feel after the operation. I just feel very lucky and blessed to even be getting this surgery despite the pandemic. Don't freak out if the next chapter doesn't show up as quickly as the other ones have up to this point. Thank you so much to all of you for your interest in and support with this story so far, and thanks in advance for your understanding.] _

_Owl Motel  
Parker Square  
6:00 AM_

Harrison was in the process of dressing for work while sitting on his unkempt motel bed when his cell phone rang. Seeing Detective Asher's name on the caller ID, he smiled and answered the call.

"Hey kiddo!" he said warmly, "What's up?"

"Hey Troy", Asher greeted back, "You're the first one outside of my squad to know. Ernie and I are being detailed for an undercover assignment, so we'll be going away for a while."

"Okay", Harrison replied, "Is there anything I can do for you while you're gone?"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you", Asher said, "I'm not entirely sure how long we'll be gone for, so do you think you can feed my fish for while I'm gone?"

Harrison chuckled at the unique request. "Sure", he said, "I'll just make a detour on my way home after shift for a while. It's no problem."

Asher then chuckled herself for a moment. "Awesome", she said contentedly, "I really appreciate this, Troy. Thank you so much."

"You're so welcome, honey", Harrison said, "Where do you live again?"

"I live on West Sunnyside Avenue in Sheridan Park", Asher replied, "I actually left a copy of my apartment keys and some written instructions with Lieutenant Broussard, so be sure to stop by her office before you clock out tonight, okay?"

"Absolutely", Harrison said, "When do you guys leave?"

"This afternoon", Asher replied, "I obviously can't tell you exactly where we're going, but the lieutenant will be able to get word to us in case of any emergencies."

"Good to know", Harrison said, "I've got to get going, but I want to tell you something first."

"Shoot", Asher said.

Harrison sighed while trying to find the right words. "Just in case the unthinkable happens", he finally said, "I want you to know how proud I am of you and how much I love you as a friend, as I always have."

He could tell that Asher was smiling on her end. "I love you too, Troy", she replied warmly, "Take care, okay? I'll come find you when I get back."

"Please do", Harrison said, "You stay safe, and tell Ernie I'll kick his ass if something happens to you."

Asher scoffed. "I'll do that", she said, "See you soon."

"Bye for now, sweetie!" he said before hanging up.

Harrison then tucked his cell phone into the side pocket of his leather jacket and stood up from the sitting position he had been in on his bed. He crossed to the nearest window that overlooked the motel's parking lot and pulled the somewhat grubby brown curtains open to let the sunlight in. It was then that he saw Aiden Pearce walking across the parking lot toward the stairs, presumably going toward his own room upstairs.

Though hesitant, the detective ended up realizing that if he wanted to start getting to the bottom of whatever his mysterious neighbor was up to, it was pretty much now or never. He grabbed his CPD Detective's badge and clipped it to the waistband of his jeans and put on his leather shoulder holster containing his Sig-Sauer P-226 handgun. He managed to obscure his holster and gun with his jacket before grabbing his handcuffs, clipping the leather sheath in which they were held to his back pocket.

Harrison then left his room and hurriedly but inconspicuously managed to jog part of the way across the outer edge of the parking lot to the stairs. He soon ascended them with an equal amount of stealth, making it to Pearce's door in no time. He knocked twice before the evidently ajar door slightly came even more open with a sharp creak.

Harrison sidestepped quietly through the slightly open door into the room. He was taken aback by how much computer equipment and related technology occupied the room, noting the presence of both a very high-tech projector and an oversized projection screen against one of the back walls.

"Mister Pearce?" Harrison called out. He assumed that his neighbor was in the bathroom, as that door appeared to be closed and locked. "Mister Pearce?" he called again, "It's Troy Harrison from downstairs! I hope I'm not disturbing y…"

Harrison's words stopped short when the inquisitive detective noted the shadow of someone holding some sort of blunt weapon above his head being illuminated on the floor. With quick reflexes, he managed to grab the hand of his would-be assailant with his right hand and pulled hard, sending whomever it was rolling over his own arched back and onto the bed in front of him. Aiden Pearce fell onto the dingy motel room mattress with a bouncy creak against the well-worn bedsprings. Harrison now held the man's weapon, which was apparently some sort of collapsible black baton, which he promptly threw to the floor beside him and drawing his own gun.

"Who the hell are you?" an intense-looking Pearce shouted.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, asshole", Harrison replied as he held his gun on Pearce. With his free hand, he pulled his jacket aside, revealing his CPD badge. "I guess I should reintroduce myself first", he continued, "Detective Troy Harrison, Chicago PD." He took his badge and police ID and threw them over to Pearce. They promptly landed beside him on the bed.

Grabbing the items, Pearce stood up and held Harrison's CPD identification card under the light from the projector for a moment, illuminating the ultraviolet watermarked seal that proved the legitimacy of his ID. "Okay", he said, "This checks out. Why are you here, Detective?"

Harrison shut the room's door and sat at the desk beside the projection screen, sighing deeply. "I work for the Homicide Unit at CPD's District Thirty-Four", he explained, "But I also work for Blume's CtOS Task Force. Your name has come up in some of the investigations I've been working on."

"What investigations?" Pearce asked.

"The murders at May Stadium the other night", Harrison replied candidly, "and the blackout that followed them. Not only that, but there's a guy at Chicago Med with a broken arm and a skull fracture. I have it on good authority that he's the one who harassed your sister, Nicole."

Pearce nodded knowingly. "You work with those two detectives who stopped by her house the other day", he said.

"That's right", Harrison replied, "Detectives Dobbs and Brooks. They were assigned to work the man's assault case. I'm going to keep it real with you, we're looking at you as the main suspect."

"Am I under arrest?" Pearce asked.

"I have no direct evidence tying you to Frank Janson's assault at the moment", Harrison said, "but I am going to have to take you into custody for trying to coldcock me just now. I'll make sure you're treated fairly. You just have to talk with Dobbs and Brooks, they'll assign you a court date, and I can try to get you back here by tonight."

Aiden Pearce then stood up and placed his hands behind his back, walking backwards until he was in front of Harrison. The detective then handcuffed the man and read him his Miranda Rights accordingly before grabbing his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the OEMC Dispatch Center.

"This is Detective Troy Harrison", Harrison said into the phone, "CPD Homicide, badge number Three-One-Two-Five-Five. I have a suspect in custody on a Code Five-Eddie at the Owl Motel in Parker Square. I need an area unit for transport to the Thirty-Fourth District, please, Code Two."

_CPD District 34  
Intake Area  
20 Minutes Later_

Aiden Pearce was escorted into the ground-level Intake and Booking Area at District 34, brought in by both Harrison and two uniformed patrol officers. Desk Sergeant Debbie Mahoney met them at the door.

"Hey Sarge", Harrison said, "I have Mister Aiden Pearce here to be booked on a charge of assaulting a police officer. He tried to take a swing at me with a collapsible baton when I went to interview him about his possible connection to a case."

Mahoney nodded. "Okay", she replied as she took ahold of Pearce by his handcuffs, "I'll take him in and get him processed. Has he been searched?"

"Yes ma'am", Harrison replied as he motioned to the pair of uniformed officers, "By both myself and these two patrolmen." He then retrieved Pearce's baton from his back pocket carefully and handed it to Mahoney. "This is the weapon he tried to use on me earlier", he continued, "It's all he had on him. No wallet, no driver's license, nothing like that. Could you do me a favor and hand him off to Dobbs and Brooks when you're done? He's also a suspect in a case they're working. They'll want to talk to him."

"You got it", Mahoney replied, "And speaking of Brooks, the Commander wants to see you in his office."

Harrison nodded and politely stepped past the Sergeant, heading inside the district. He immediately headed upstairs to Commander Brooks' office, located at the end of the second-floor hallway near the Homicide and Narcotics squad rooms.

"Come in", the Commander said from the other side of the door.

The detective did so and courteously entered the office, shutting the door behind him. "Good morning, sir", Harrison said, "Sergeant Mahoney said you wanted to see me."

"Good morning, Detective", Commander Brooks replied as he motioned to the small leather chair positioned in front of his desk, "Have a seat."

"Thank you", Harrison said as he sat down in the chair and pulled it slightly closer to the desk.

"I know you have a busy day ahead of you, Detective", Commander Brooks began, "So I'm going to cut to the chase. I overheard the radio traffic about your arrest of Aiden Pearce on the Citywide radio channel earlier. I hear he tried to strike you, is that correct?"

"Yes sir", Harrison replied, "He tried to strike me with a collapsible baton when I went to his motel room to speak to him about his possible connection to some cases we're working on. Fortunately, I was able to block his attack and subdue him before the weapon actually made any impact."

The Commander nodded. "I see", he said, "And these cases you think he could be connected to. Remind me, which cases are those?"

"The murders that Detective Asher and I stumbled onto the other night at May Stadium as well as the subsequent blackout that happened", Harrison explained, "Another informal joint inquiry by my squad, the Narcotics detectives, the Gang Unit, and the CtOS Task Force exposed Aiden Pearce's potential connection to an assault case that Detective Dobbs and your son assisted the Thirty-First District with yesterday afternoon."

Commander Brooks skimmed through the case file documents in front of him for a second. "Ah yes", "The complainant in that case was a Mister Frank Janson", he said, "I see here in Dobbs' report that he is also a suspect in some kind of harassment case. Is that right?"

Harrison nodded. "Janson had apparently been paid an, as of yet, unknown amount of money by an outside party to harass Aiden Pearce's sister Nicole Pearce with a barrage of threatening phone calls", he said, "Who that outside party is, we unfortunately don't yet know."

"Where is Mister Pearce now?" Commander Brooks asked.

"He's downstairs being booked by Sergeant Mahoney", Harrison replied, "Afterwards, she'll take him upstairs to be formally interviewed by your son and Detective Dobbs. I don't know if he's the type of guy who's apt to spill his guts in the box, but I guess time will have to tell."

The Commander then flipped to the last document in the case file. "I see you've included an official request signed by you in your capacity as a member of the CtOS Task Force", he said, "You want to make Aiden Pearce an official informant?"

Harrison sighed, now knowing how asinine that request sounded, considering that Pearce was a potential assault and murder suspect. "Yes sir", he said, "My superiors at the task force normally would sign off on such a request themselves, but since I'm a CPD officer and Aiden is in my official custody, they asked that you co-sign the paperwork before anything officially goes through."

"You realize that this man could've possibly attacked someone?" Commander Brooks sternly reminded Harrison, "And that he could've been present during a series of brutal murders?"

"Yes, I do realize those things", Harrison replied candidly, "But with all due respect, Commander, I believe that despite whatever faults or shady history he may have, Aiden Pearce appears to have substantial insights into some very nefarious things that could be going on in the City of Chicago. If we can use whatever insights and intelligence he has to protect and possibly save people, I'm all for that, and you should be too."

The Commander sighed deeply before grabbing a pen. "Point made, Detective", he said, "I'll co-sign this request. But so, you understand, that means I have to vouch for Mister Pearce's validity with both the State's Attorney and the US Attorney. Your informant, your responsibility."

Harrison gleefully stood up and extended a hand to Commander Brooks. "Understood, Commander", he said, "And I so appreciate your support."

The Commander reciprocated the detective's gesture, shaking his hand firmly. "You're welcome", he said, "I want to be kept in the loop at all times. Any problems, you go to Captain Broussard or whomever you report to at the task force. Make sure all official paperwork on this gets copied to me."

"Yes sir", Harrison said, "Thank you."

Harrison then left the office and headed down the hall, managing to manifest a very satisfied smile as he did so.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Watch Your Back**

_[Author's Note: Before we get started here, my surgery went well and I've been getting better and better every day, so I'll be back to posting chapters more regularly. Also, I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge the state of the world that we're in yet again. Police violence, racism, and other tragic things like that are NEVER okay. My college background is in Criminal Justice, so it hurts my heart to know that there are still people out there that take advantage of the authority, privilege, and honor that comes with positions in law enforcement. I write these stories for the fans, of course, but I also want people to know that I write these stories as a tribute to the real-life law enforcement officers and other first responders who genuinely regard the oaths they took and do their best to uphold them every day. The type of people who really do care and make sacrifices for our safety. So, to all of you, I'd like to express a very heartfelt "thank you"!]_

_CPD District 34  
A Few Hours Later_

Harrison met Aiden Pearce at the back entrance of CPD's District 34 as he was discharged from custody. Pearce promptly walked out as the security door was elevated, and he was surprised to see the detective waiting for him.

"What are you doing here?" Pearce asked.

Harrison stood up from his leaning position against the building's brick wall, putting his blue Fedora hat back on his head as he walked toward Aiden, his face being illuminated by the light coming from inside. "Relax, Mister Pearce", he said, "Detectives Dobbs and Brooks tell me that you were upfront about the situation with your sister, so in exchange for that cooperation, I've been authorized to show you a little leniency in regards to your various hacking exploits."

A now intrigued Pearce nodded. "Okay", he said, "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means that you are dually registered as an informant with both the Chicago PD and the CtOS Task Force", Harrison began to explain, "Any viable information you provide us with will result in the leniency I mentioned."

Though apprehensive at the proposition, Pearce grinned. "I may be a lot of things, Detective" he said, "but I don't think 'snitch' is a title that appropriately describes me."

"I understand your hesitation with this, Aiden", Harrison said candidly, "But we both know that criminals hide out on the internet more and more these days. People who have committed way worse deeds than noble white hat hackers like you could ever fathom doing."

Pearce sighed. "So", he said, "What you're saying is, you're not really interested in busting me personally, but if I were to come upon anything in my work that you or your law enforcement colleagues would find appealing, I get a pass."

Harrison nodded. "Somewhat of one, yes", he clarified, "The State of Illinois does, of course, frown upon cold-blooded murder."

Pearce scoffed. "Duh", he said, "So does that make you my babysitter?"

"More like your handler", Harrison replied, "I'm making it my job to watch your back as best I can from this moment on. I promise that I won't invade your space too much, but if you happen to find yourself in any majorly life-threatening situations, I will have to intervene."

Pearce started to walk out of the alley and toward the sidewalk, with the detective following right beside him. "Understood", he said as he looked up and down the street for an available taxi, "I have to go meet one of my contacts. You're welcome to follow me if you feel you have to, but please do your best to maintain a distance."

A yellow taxi soon pulled up, at which point Pearce opened the backseat door and climbed in. As he shut the door, Harrison briefly stuck his head in the open window. "You got it", he said, "I'll be right behind you."

Per Aiden Pearce's request, Harrison was able to sustain a considerable distance as he tailed the taxi in his unmarked Chevrolet Impala police car. The taxi soon stopped near of a set of metal stairs that lead down into an underground train station. The detective watched as Aiden exited the taxi and briskly walked down the steps into the station.

Not wanting to arouse neither Pearce nor whomever it was he was meeting, Harrison hurriedly exited his own car, crossed to the trunk, and discreetly opened it. He quickly took off his blue suit jacket and Fedora hat, haphazardly tossing them both inside the truck, before removing a digital camera with a 140-millimeter zoom lens, putting the camera's neck strap around his neck. He then grabbed his leather jacket from the backseat of the car and put it on, cleverly hiding his badge and gun holster with one side of the jacket. He then quickly closed the trunk.

Harrison then crept down the stairs in a very inobtrusive manner adjacent to Pearce and watched as his newly-minted informant approached a man clad in a very nondescript dark jacket and baseball cap.

"Bad Boy?" Pearce asked the man.

"What?" the unidentified man asked, confused.

"Bad Boy Seventeen?" Pearce asked in an equally baffling manner.

The nondescript man scoffed. "What the fuck, man?" he said before walking away.

The next that Harrison knew, Pearce was looking behind him. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was a very overly tattooed and pierced woman with a dark Mohawk-like haircut. "Who the hell is this?" Harrison asked himself under his breath as he discreetly shot a few images of Aiden and the intriguing yet still unknown woman.

"Bad Boy Seventeen?" an equally perplexed and flabbergasted Pearce inquired to the woman.

"Clara", the woman clarified for him, speaking with a very prominent French-Canadian accent.

"Clara", Pearce parroted.

Harrison couldn't make out the next few parts of the pair's presumably awkward conversation from his perspective, but kept on shooting photos of their interaction all the while. Aiden and Clara's conversation soon ended, as indicated to Harrison when he saw the latter head back up the opposite set of steps.

"…And you're exactly as I expected, Aiden", Clara said as she left.

Pearce then walked up and stood next to Harrison, whispering in his ear as not to draw attention from the various bystanders milling about the station.

"I have to go handle something with my new friend", Pearce said candidly, "and I'd appreciate if you didn't follow me this time."

An apprehensive Harrison let out a nervous scoff. "Well", he said, "As luck would have it, I've been awake for fifteen hours straight and I'm damn near dead on my feet. I'm going to head home, but if you run into trouble, you call me. I'll have a car to your location as soon as possible."

"I work better alone, Detective", Pearce replied in a stoic and very matter-of-fact tone.

"I'm serious, Aiden", Harrison said with a very solemn tone in his own voice, "Just because I'm a cop doesn't mean I'm your enemy."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Some Firm Warnings**

_Brewed Delight Coffee Shop  
The Loop  
1 Hour Later_

After observing and photographing the uneasy introduction and interaction between Aiden Pearce and his secretive female contact, now known as Clara, Detective Harrison drove into The Loop and stopped into a neighborhood 24-hour coffee shop with his laptop and digital camera. He planned to use the building's free Wi-Fi to upload the photos of Clara and e-mail them to the CtOS Task Force so she could be formally identified. He was doing just that as he took out his cell phone and dialed the task force's direct number.

"Task Force Command Center", Dr. Bartholomew answered, "Doctor Bartholomew speaking."

"Hey Doc", Harrison replied, "It's Troy Harrison. Sorry to call so late."

"No problem Detective", Bartholomew said, "What can I do for you?"

"I just tailed Aiden Pearce to an underground train station where he met with one of his spooky hacker contacts", Harrison began to explain, "I was able to sneak in behind them and snap some photos. Pearce's contact was a very tattooed dark-haired woman who spoke with a very pronounced French-Canadian accent, and I just e-mailed you a few shots of her face. Could you use the CtOS facial recognition software to get a clear ID?"

"Sure", Bartholomew replied.

Harrison could hear his task force supervisor typing on some computer keys on the opposite side of the line. "Okay", Bartholomew said after a few moments, "Your mysterious tattooed woman is Clara Lille. She's a twenty-eight-year-old Canadian citizen who's here apparently on an expired Visa."

"Her immigration status isn't an issue for us, is it?" Harrison asked.

"Not at all", Bartholomew said, "We have way bigger fish to fry. Anyway, it appears Miss Lille has worked as a tattoo artist at a shop in The Wards the entire time she's been in this country. She works at a tattoo shop call 'Moonlight Ink' in The Loop. She has no solid last known address on record, so I'll send Vin and McCain there tomorrow afternoon to try and get a lead from her boss on where she might be."

"That sounds good", Harrison replied, "I'll get an update from you guys when I get to The Aquarium tomorrow night."

"Okay", Bartholomew said, "Anything else you need, Detective?"

"Yeah", Harrison explained, "Speaking of tomorrow, Doc, I might be a little bit late coming in for my next shift. My friend lives in Sheridan Park and she's out of town for a bit. She asked me to feed her fish while she's away, but I think I might crash there for a day or two. It'll be a bit more of a commute from Sheridan Park to The Wards, what with the train schedule and everything."

"No problem", Bartholomew said, "Just don't be afraid to give me a shout if you run into any issues."

"You got it", Harrison replied, "Thanks for understanding, Doc. I'll see you tomorrow night."

_Residence of Abigail Asher  
West Sunnyside Avenue  
Sheridan Park  
45 Minutes Later_

After a ride on one of Chicago's infamous elevated trains, Harrison arrived at Detective Asher's apartment building, not only intending to honor his promise to feed her fish, but to also possibly stay for a few days to avoid a longer, unnecessary car ride back to both his work in The Wards and his motel in Parker Square. Asher lived in a seemingly enormous-looking three-story brick apartment building, one of a few located on Sheridan Park's West Sunnyside Avenue.

Harrison unlocked the building's outer door using the keys he had gotten from Lieutenant Broussard and made his way through the building's surprisingly cramped lobby. He soon found Asher's apartment, 114, tucked in a constricted hallway just off the lobby. Using a second key on the provided keyring, he unlocked the door and made his way inside.

At first blush, it appeared that the tenant in Apartment 114 was possibly a busy college student as opposed to a Chicago police officer. A brand-new mountain bike sat leaning against a wall just inside Asher's front door, and on either side of it sat a backpack, a pair of very well-used running shoes, and a sports water bottle. The young detective's living room was furnished with a very cozy-looking brown leather sofa with two matching leather recliners on either side of it. A handmade pine coffee table sat opposite the sofa.

Some very fond memories were triggered for Harrison as he noted the presence of a decorative fleece blanket draped across the back of the sofa, which bared the name and logo of their Vermont hometown athletic team, the Winterville Wasps. The blanket was even decked out in the distinctive black and brown color scheme of their high school. Harrison soon found Asher's aquarium and the needed fish food, tapping some flakes into the top of the tank. Asher's two yellow tetra fish quickly swarmed and consumed the food.

Harrison found his way into Asher's small kitchen, flipping on the overhead florescent light as he entered. He smiled as he passed her refrigerator and noted the presence of a photo, which she had stuck to the freezer door. It was of a younger Asher and Harrison posing together at the former's high school graduation ceremony, with Asher dressed in her black and brown cap and gown. Harrison had made a special trip that weekend all the way from his college in Mississippi just to support his friend.

The detective briefly searched the kitchen's cupboards looking for something to eat, that is until he found a small unopened bag of salted sunflower seeds in one of the cupboards above the sink. He then sat down at the small dining table, opened the bag with ease, and began eating the seeds. As he enjoyed his light snack, Harrison happened to notice that Asher had apparently left an official CPD case file folder on the table, unopened. The large bolded lettering beneath the official CPD seal read: "ROSSI-FREMONT HOUSING PROJECTS" and beneath that a corresponding case number. Harrison raised an eyebrow with tentative interest, but nevertheless was very conflicted about actually opening it and examining the contents within. Although he himself was a CPD officer, the folder detailed a case being investigated by Asher's Narcotics Squad, and the always respectful Harrison was bothered by the possibly of seeing things that Asher and the squad would've most likely wanted to keep confidential.

However, a lightbulb went off in Harrison's mind that seemed to override his apprehension. He flipped open the folder to find a piece of yellow paper, apparently having been torn from a yellow legal pad, sitting at the top of the accumulation of paperwork inside the folder. He recognized the handwriting on it as Asher's, written in black ink, and words such as "Pawned Off", "Wards", and a particular fragment of a sentence containing the words: "…upstairs apartment" jumped out at him.

"What the hell?" Harrison said under his breath.

The puzzled detective momentarily moved the piece of paper aside and was all but stunned by what he found beneath it: An enlarged photocopied image of the late Maxwell King's Illinois driver's license. Little by little, Harrison started to put the various pieces of everything together in his mind and realized that, judging by the dates on Asher's reports included in the folder, she had ostensibly known about the investigation of Maxwell King all along, even before the night when Harrison, Voight, Olinsky, and the other detectives had found him dead in his apartment above the pawn shop. Harrison needed to have a very important talk with Lieutenant Broussard.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Bad Dreams and Realities**

_Residence of Abigail Asher  
West Sunnyside Avenue  
Sheridan Park  
5:30 AM_

"_No! Mama! Mama! Nooooo!"_

Detective Harrison was suddenly awoken yet again by the same bereaved screaming that always came as part of the haunting dream of the same tragic event that had occurred seven years earlier during a case he worked as an FBI agent. However, this time he woke up on Detective Asher's couch wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxers and wrapped up in a black and brown fleece blanket that bared the name of his and Asher's high school in their Vermont hometown. The detective struggled to get off the couch before suddenly finding that his bare left foot had crushed a disposable plastic drinking cup that still contained some of the underlying orange juice and vodka remnants from the "screwdriver" he had drank the night before.

"Shit!" Harrison said under his breath after sighing deeply. He quickly removed the crushed cup from the sole of his foot and staggered into Asher's small kitchen. He threw away the crushed cup before retrieving another plastic cup and filling it with some orange juice. Eyeing a bottle of vodka, which he had left out on the counter the night before, he sighed before pouring some of the vodka into the new cup atop his orange juice.

_CPD District 34  
7:00 AM_

An hour and a half later, after taking the time to shower, get dressed, and catch a taxi to The Wards, Harrison entered District 34. In his hand was the case file he had discovered at Detective Asher's apartment. However, what was quite different about the normally professional and reverent detective on this particularly uneasy morning was his disposition.

"Good morning Detective!" Sergeant Mahoney greeted from her desk.

Harrison let out an apprehensive sigh before putting on a brave face to address the Sergeant. "Morning, Sarge", he said, "How are you?"

Mahoney knew right then that something was very apparently off with the detective. "I'm just fine, thanks", she replied, "If you don't mind me asking, Detective, are you okay?"

Harrison cleared his throat. "I had a little bit of a rough night last night, to be honest with you", he said, "but I'm hanging in there. I appreciate the concern, Sarge, thanks."

"Not a problem", she said, "Could you do me a favor and stop by here again before you leave tonight?"

Though perplexed by the abrupt request, Harrison nodded. "Sure", he said before deciding to change the subject, "Is Lieutenant Broussard in her office upstairs?" He motioned to the staircase using the case file he had in his hand.

Sergeant Mahoney nodded. "She got in about half an hour ago", she replied, "So she should be, yeah."

Harrison nodded. "Thanks, Sarge", he said, "I'll come talk to you later."

The dogged young detective then promptly marched upstairs and crossed through the double doors into the Narcotics squad room. An older female investigator, Detective Sharon Granger, turned to see him in. Granger was a muscular, heavyset short-haired brunette in her mid-forties who sported a Chicago White Sox t-shirt and black cargo pants.

"Something I can help you with?" Granger asked as she noticed the CPD Detective's badge on Harrison's waistband, "Detective…?" Her voice trailed off.

"Troy Harrison, ma'am", Harrison clarified, "I work across the hall in Homicide. Is your lieutenant in her office?"

Granger stood up from her seat and nodded. "She is", she replied, "But I think she's on the phone at the moment if you'd like to wait."

Not wanting to take "no" for an answer, Harrison anxiously shook his head. "With all due respect, Detective...?" He paused for Granger to fill in the blank.

"Sharon Granger", Granger chimed in.

"Detective Granger", Harrison said with an increasingly nervous tone in his voice, "I do apologize, but I need to see Lieutenant Broussard now. It's urgent." He hustled past Granger's desk and hurried toward the Lieutenant's office. He pounded three times on the door.

Through the panel in the door, Harrison could see an apparently miffed Lieutenant Kathy Broussard say something to whomever she was speaking with on the phone before promptly putting down the receiver. She then crossed to her office door, at which point Harrison stood back a bit so she could open it.

"Detective Harrison", Lieutenant Broussard said as she opened the door, "You look like whatever's brought you to our side of the hall can't wait."

Harrison nodded. "I apologize for interrupting you, ma'am", he said with great sincerity, "But you're right, this can't wait. May I please come in?"

The lieutenant pulled her door open further and motioned to the inside of her office. Harrison stepped in, nodded to Detective Granger, and shut the door behind him.

"What's up, Detective?" Lieutenant Broussard asked as she sat down back at her desk.

Harrison sat down in a small leather chair facing the lieutenant's desk, placing the case file on top of the desk and sliding it over to her. "Pardon my being so blunt, Lieutenant", he said, "But why wasn't I told you guys were investigating the Rossi-Fremont Housing Projects? That location is almost certainly linked to the Maxwell King homicide that our squad's been working all this time."

Lieutenant Broussard opened the case file Harrison had brought with him and almost immediately sighed with discontent. "Abby left this for you, didn't she?" she asked, putting two and two together.

"Yes ma'am", Harrison replied candidly, "She left it out in the open on her kitchen table. Is that where she and Ernie Machado are right now?"

"Yes", Lieutenant Broussard said with a very apprehensive tone about her, "But beyond that, I'm afraid I can't comment any further since the investigation is so sensitive."

"I was an FBI agent for ten years before I came here to Chicago, Lieutenant", Harrison said, "I worked a lot of organized crime cases and I knew a lot of agents who often worked undercover. I'm well aware of what Abby and Ernie are up against."

"Then", Lieutenant Broussard said, "If I may ask, what's sticking in your craw so bad?"

"Part of it is this", Harrison said, "I have great respect for the secretive work you and your squad do, but I think that if you guys had given the Gang Unit the intel about Maxwell King, King would likely still be alive. Hank Voight said he had sent you a memo asking for any intel you guys had on King."

The lieutenant nodded before holding up a piece of paper, apparently the memo to which Harrison referred. "It's right here", she replied, "And if I may be blunt this time, Detective, my problem isn't with Voight's intel request, it's with Voight himself."

Harrison then gave Broussard a very obvious look of confusion. "I'm sorry", he said, "I don't follow."

"You're new to CPD, Detective", Lieutenant Broussard said, "But, as you know, my husband and I have been around here for twenty-plus years. Hank Voight is a very experienced and well-intended cop. But, be that as it may, he rubs a lot of folks in this department the wrong way."

"I know, I know", Harrison said, "He and Alvin Olinsky bend the rules, there's stories about them raising hell all over the Twenty-First District. I may be new, ma'am, but you should know I have ears like an eagle."

"They have been known to break the rules outright, Detective", Lieutenant Broussard said, "That's part of the reason I haven't chosen to immediately comply with Voight's intel request. Plus, there's the more important possibility that giving out that intel could taint the undercover investigation that Abby and Ernie are currently working on."

"Which brings me to my next question", Harrison said, "Did you have Abby already working for you before she even transferred up here?"

The lieutenant sighed, realizing how good Harrison was at putting the pieces of a metaphorical puzzle together. "Abby always says how intuitive you are", she replied with a grin, "To answer your question, yes. I recruited Abby straight out of the Academy. Our deal was she would work two years on regular Patrol and I would put in a good word for her when she took the Detective's exam. If she passed, which she did, she would be assigned up here to partner with Ernie and work undercover."

"And the fact that Abby's appearance and build make her look younger than she actually is", Harrison said with a tone that was equal parts concerned and snippy, "Is that a plus for you?"

Any lightheartedness that had been in Lieutenant Broussard's expression immediately disappeared with Harrison's change in tone. "Excuse me, Detective?" she said with a very defensive manner.

"I mean, come on, Kathy", Harrison continued, "No disrespect to you, Ernie, or your girl Detective Granger out there, but if you sent Ernie in there alone, every junkie in The Wards would smell 'cop' on him all the way from the Sears Tower. Abby's got a slim build, a small frame, short stature, and a dirty mouth. She fits in well."

"As right as you are about all that, Detective", Broussard said, "I don't appreciate your tone, sir. If you're angry because you're worried about Abby, then fine. I understand that. I love that girl too. She's in no way expendable."

Harrison sighed, calming himself. "I wholeheartedly agree, Lieutenant", he said, "I'm sorry for my little outburst, ma'am. It's just that Abby and I have known each other since we were kids back in Vermont. We love each other as friends."

The lieutenant nodded. "She's said as much to all of us", she said, "I think she left that case file for you as a way of letting you know that she's okay and where she'd be. It doesn't exactly jive with my squad's procedures, but I'll cut her some slack."

Harrison's cell phone vibrated. Checking it, he stood up from his chair. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant", he said, "I've got to get going. Detective Tran needs me to meet her down at Palin Correctional Center."


	19. Chapter 19 Part 1

**Chapter 19: Crisis at Palin Correctional (Part 1)**

_[Author's Note: Sorry for the weirdness concerning the upload with my previous chapter. Thanks to that particular reader who gave me the heads up about the discrepancy. You know who you are! I have to upload my documents as a whole from now on, but so be it. Just so long as you guys can read the story!]_

_Palin Correctional Center  
The Loop  
45 Minutes Later_

Now dressed in his black CPD identification vest, Harrison entered the front door of the new state-of-the-art Palin Correctional Center in The Loop. The facility was built a few years earlier with the purpose of taking the pressure off of the Cook County Jail, thus making housing and inmate capacity at the latter facility more available. The Palin Correctional Center had been freshly outfitted with all the perks afforded by Blume's newest advances in security technology, including networked locks and automated surveillance.

Harrison showed his badge and checked his weapon with the intake officer, after which point, he waved to Detective Tran, who was already seated in the facility's main lobby waiting for him. Like her partner, Tran was also clad in her black CPD identification vest.

"Hey Sunny", Harrison greeted, "Sorry I'm late. I got tied up talking with Lieutenant Broussard at Narcotics. What brings us here?"

"Monty Jones called the squad room looking for you and I was the one to answer the call", Tran explained, "he said he had heard from what he called a 'confidant' of his that there was someone who had information about the stadium murders. I tried to call Abby and loop her in, but her phone went straight to voicemail."

"She and Ernie are on an undercover case", Harrison replied as he sat down in the chair beside her, "They'll both be unavailable for a while. That's part of the reason I was meeting with the lieutenant earlier. Who's this guy we're here to see?"

"Raul Lionzo", Tran said, "he's a thirty-five-year-old Hispanic male and a known associate of both Maurice Vega and the Black Viceroys. According to his intake file, he's about five-eight, bald, has some very obvious tattoos on his face."

"What's he in for?" Harrison asked.

"The Thirty-First District detectives busted him for heroin possession two weeks ago", Tran replied, "He's fourteen days into a sixty-day sentence. The warden should be here shortly to escort us to the visitation area."

A few minutes later, Warden Peter Malich came into the lobby. Warden Malich was a lofty white man in his mid-fifties with a very noticeable combover in his salt and pepper hair, dressed in a very dapper three-piece taupe suit with a brown tie. He was accompanied by his younger brother, Correctional Officer Martin Malich. Martin Malich was a shorter man in his early forties who was dressed in a very basic-looking brown and gray CO uniform.

"Detectives Tran and Harrison, I presume?" Warden Malich inquired to the two detectives.

Both Harrison and Tran promptly stood up from their respective seats. "Yes sir", Tran replied as she gestured to her partner, "I'm Tran, he's Harrison."

The warden extended a hand to each of them. "I'm Peter Malich", he said, "I'm the Warden here at Palin Correctional Center." He motioned to his brother. "This is my brother, Martin", he continued, "He's one of our officers assigned to Inmate Lionzo's housing unit. I understand you wish to speak to Mister Lionzo regarding one of your investigations."

Sensing something could possibly be off with both Malichs' demeanor and intentions, Harrison tried to play things off as professionally and respectfully as he could. "That's correct, Warden", he said, "Unfortunately, we can't really divulge any specifics to you gentlemen. The investigation we're working on is of a very delicate nature. I'm sure you understand."

The respective senses of both Malich brothers were apparently just as sharp, as the warden started to detect Harrison's evasiveness, but he chose to pick his battles accordingly. "Fair enough", Warden Malich said after an uncomfortable beat before turning to his brother, "Martin, please get ahold of the unit supervisor and have Inmate Lionzo taken to the Contact Visitation Area."

Martin Malich momentarily stepped aside to act on his brother's instructions, keying his radio. Tran and Harrison watched as Martin quietly conversed with someone on the radio. All the while, a very unpleasant and palpably awkward tension lingered in the air between the two detectives and the seemingly shady warden.

Martin returned to the trio roughly two minutes later, at which point he addressed his brother first. "I'm sorry, Peter", he said with a regretful tone, "There's a problem. Lionzo is in transit to Solitary. He apparently picked a fight with some officers in the exercise yard a few minutes ago."

A loud siren alarm soon sounded throughout every speaker in the facility. "Attention please!" An excitedly nervous male voice said over the intercom, "Attention please! We have a Code Seventeen, basement laundry! Repeat, we have a Code Seventeen, basement laundry! All available hands, please respond immediately!"

"Code Seventeen", Warden Malich said with an equally fraught tone in his voice, "That code indicates a combative prisoner."

Harrison and Tran traded looks for a moment. "Okay", Harrison said, "We'll go help your officers. You guys should stay up here and hold things down as best as you can."

After Tran retrieved their guns from the intake officer, she and Harrison quickly headed down to the facility's basement-level laundry room via a back stairwell. As they did so, Harrison keyed his radio.

"Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward to Squad", he said into the radio, "Be advised, Thirty-Four-Henry-Bravo and myself are assisting CO's at Palin Correctional. Hold us down on a Code-Five-Eddie at that location, please. Will update further, over."

"Ten-Four, Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward", a female dispatcher replied through the radio, "All units in the vicinity of Palin Correctional Center, be advised, District Thirty-Four detectives are assisting correctional officers on a Code-Five-Edward at that location. Further information will be forthcoming."

They soon reached the full-sized yet still cramped laundry room. The heat emanating from the room's numerous steam pipes made the room seem three times as hotter as it probably would've been without them. As such, Harrison and Tran crouched down and removed their CPD identification vests, placing them in a corner by the open entrance door.

It appeared to the two detectives that four correctional officers were already present in the laundry room, having apparently already been there since before the "Code Seventeen" call was even put out. Harrison's gaze found its way to the corner of the room, where Raul Lionzo was pinned down. Two correctional officers were taking turns violently kicking him in the stomach.

"What are a couple of bottom feeders doing at the stadium?" one officer gruffly asked, "doing a deal without cutting us in? Think we don't have friends in high places? They expect a cut too!"

"No!" A weakened and desperate Raul said between coughs and grunts of pain, "I told you already. It wasn't a deal. We got called, man. Someone tricked a cut, too!"

"Fuck that, 'tricked'!" The bad-tempered officer said, "Stop lying. We've warned you before. Think we won't leave you for dead too?"

"I can't take no more", an increasingly distressed Raul replied, "I'm telling you what I know. I swear, please, man! I swear!"

"And your buddy?" The bad-tempered officer barked, "What happened to him? Where's he now?"

"Maurice?" a confused Raul asked, "I don't fucking know. They've got him. They must've killed him…"

Just as Harrison and Tran reached the point where they couldn't stand to watch anymore, the double doors of the laundry room's side entrance suddenly came open. Both Harrison and Tran were stunned to see Aiden Pearce enter the room. For some reason, he was wearing an inmate's orange scrub suit and holding a shotgun.

The room almost instantly erupted in gunfire from both Aiden and the apparently corrupt group of correctional officers. Harrison and Tran took the opportunity to come out of their crouched positions, apprehensively training their guns on the officers.

"Chicago PD!" Harrison shouted, "Hold your fire!"

No sooner did Harrison say that did a blast of shotgun fire hit his and Tran's position. Having no other choice, Harrison promptly gunned down the shotgun-toting officer with four shots to the chest and abdomen. The officer fell backwards onto the room's concrete floor, dead.

The detective found himself panting like a dog in the scorching summer heat as the adrenaline stirred within him. He lowered his gun and looked over his shoulder to his partner as the gun battle between Pearce and the other officers resumed. Tran was slumped against the wall, holding her right side, groaning in pain.

"Oh God!" Harrison said as he holstered his gun and dashed to his partner, "Sunny! You're hit!"


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Code 10-1 (Part 2)**

_Palin Correctional Center  
Laundry Room_

Detective Harrison rushed over to his wounded partner, Detective Tran, as she leaned up against the wall of the Palin Correctional Center's dirty and overheated laundry room. Multiple acts of violent gunplay, including a defensive shooting at the hands of Harrison himself, resulted in the deaths of four correctional officers, who were ostensibly quite corrupt.

"Oh God", Harrison uttered as he instinctively pressed both hands against Tran's wounded right side. The female detective had been struck by shotgun fire across the top right side of her body, mainly through her right shoulder. "Hang on, sweetie!" Harrison said in a calming tone despite his own emotional shock and nervousness, "You hear me, Sunny? You hang on, okay?"

All Tran could do in response was groan in pain and tentatively nod. Harrison briefly looked up and found an industrial first aid kit mounted on the wall right above them, at which point he hurriedly and desperately pulled the kit's attached lid. Still pressing his right hand against his partner's bleeding shoulder wound to apply the appropriate blood-staunching pressure, he used his left hand to grab some rolled gauze from the kit. He promptly unrolled the pair of gauze, pressing them both against the wound.

"Ow!" Tran howled, "Damn, Troy! I'm hurting really bad, man!"

"I know you are, honey", Harrison said, "But I'm doing the best I can with what I've got, alright?"

Tran nodded in response. "Thanks, partner", she said.

Harrison mustered a nervous smile as he suddenly sensed someone coming up behind him. He freed up his left hand to slowly withdraw his gun from its holster. Pulling the weapon out by its grip, he turned and one-handedly pointed the firearm at the person behind him.

Having apparently made it through the physical abuse inflicted by the now deceased corrupt officers, inmate Raul Lionzo raised his hands in yield. "Whoa, whoa, Officer!" he said, "I'm not a threat to you or your partner, alright? I saw what happened and I want to help."

An apprehensive Harrison sighed deeply with relief and holstered his gun. He then motioned to the open first aid kit and the nearby laundry sink with his eyes. "Okay then", Harrison said in a very commanding tone, "Wash your hands in that sink over there, grab some gloves from that first aid kit, and put them on."

Lionzo did as he was told, washing his hands thoroughly in the laundry sink before donning a pair of blue latex-free first aid gloves. He then knelt down to where the detectives were, at which point Harrison motioned to where his own hands were currently pressed. "My partner has a pretty bad wound on her shoulder here", Harrison explained, "As soon as I move my hands away, I want you to press both your hands right in this same spot, okay? You need to apply pressure to slow down the bleeding."

As soon as Harrison moved his blood-drenched hands away from his partner's open wound, an initially hesitant Lionzo pressed his gloved hands exactly where the detective's hands had just been. Harrison, meanwhile, took a quick-thinking moment to wash and dry his dirty hands before grabbing his portable radio off the belt clip of his jeans, keying the mic.

"Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward", he said into the radio, "Emergency! Ten-One, repeat, I have a Code Ten-One in the basement laundry room at Palin Correctional Center! Shots fired at the police and by the police! Officer Down, repeat, Officer Down! I also have multiple DOA's on scene, over!"

"Squad to Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward", a male dispatcher replied through the radio, "We copy you. Backup and an ambulance are on the way. All available units in the vicinity of Palin Correctional Center and units on all channels, Ten-One situation is in progress at Palin Correctional Center, basement laundry room. Please keep all channels clear of non-essential radio traffic until further notice. All units, be advised, we have an Officer Down at Palin Correctional! All available hands, please respond Code Three!"

_Gaffney Chicago Medical Center  
Emergency Room  
15 Minutes Later_

As dire and terrifying as the situation had been, the tragedy that befell Detectives Tran and Harrison was met with some pieces of good luck and fortunate circumstance. As soon as Harrison's "10-1" call had gone out over the Citywide radio frequency, a Chicago Fire Department ambulance that had been waiting at a red light two blocks away had overheard the transmission and raced to the scene, arriving in mere minutes.

Likewise, the Chicago PD's SWAT unit had just completed a training exercise at a location just one block over from Palin Correctional Center. They just so happened to be in their van on the way back to CPD Headquarters when Harrison's call went out, and therefore, they arrived to assist just as the ambulance was rolling up. Pretty much every police patrol unit on that side of the city stepped up and volunteered to hold traffic so that the ambulance's trip to the hospital wouldn't be impeded in any way by an unnecessary multitude of other cars.

Detective Tran remained stable, alert, and awake during her five-minute ambulance ride to the Gaffney Chicago Medical Center. This state-of the-art city hospital was known by nearly every Chicagoan, especially police and other first responders, as simply "Chicago Med", and was renowned for its excellent emergency medicine and surgical care. Tran was promptly rolled into Chicago Med's busy but always well-prepared and expedient Emergency Room, where trauma surgeon Dr. Alec Willhite determined that she needed to be rushed into surgery right away.

Detective Harrison, meanwhile, was met by the entire command staff of District 34, as well as Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky. Sergeant Mahoney was the first to approach him as he somberly sat in the waiting room.

"Hey kiddo", Mahoney said as she sat down in the chair beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, "How are you holding up?"

A still stunned Harrison shrugged his shoulders with a sort of unpleasant uncertainty as anxious tears rolled down his face. "I've never seen my partner get shot right in front of me before, Sarge", he replied, "I mean, think about it. I was an FBI agent for an entire decade before joining you guys here. I pulled and fired my weapon…I don't know how many times. I've never been shot; my partner back then never went down either. I come here to a new city and a new job and my partner gets blasted by some corrupt asshole with a shotgun."

"I hear you, buddy", Mahoney said, "The good news is that Doctor Willhite said that all he has to do is remove the shotgun pellets from Sunny's shoulder blade and close the wound. It's never a good situation when a cop goes down, especially in this city, but I think it goes without saying that things could've been a lot worse today. Sunny will be okay."

Harrison nodded. "I know", he replied, "What still sucks, though, is that we're going to be short a detective for a while. Do you think Dobbs, Brooks, and I'll be able to handle everything while Sunny's on the mend?"

"I already thought of that", Mahoney said, "Have you ever met Trudy Platt? She's the desk sergeant over at the Twenty-First District?"

Harrison scoffed. "I've never met her in person", he said candidly, "But I hear she's a real battle axe. By all accounts, she certainly doesn't share your upbeat disposition."

Mahoney grinned. "Thank you for that, number one", she said, "Number two, Trudy and I go way back. I convinced her, and she in turn convinced their commander, to loan us Voight and Olinsky for the next two weeks. You and the guys may have to be on your own for a time after that, but it shouldn't be long."

Harrison smiled and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Cool", he replied, "at least I'll be working with some people that I already have a connection with."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the musical ringtone of Harrison's cell phone. He excused himself, at which point Mahoney got up and went back out into the ER's entry area. "Harrison", he dryly answered.

"Detective", Aiden Pearce replied from his end of the line with an overwrought and eager tone in his voice, "It's Aiden Pearce. I need your help."

Harrison sighed. "Aiden", he replied, "You kind of caught me at a tough time, man."

"I'm sorry", Aiden replied. The deep panting in his voice led the detective to suppose he was running with the phone to his ear. "You don't understand. My sister's been kidnapped." Two beeps were then heard, indicating that the call had suddenly dropped for whatever reason.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: All Aboard**

Having just learned from Aiden Pearce that his sister, Nicole, had just been kidnapped, Detective Harrison shot up out of his chair and headed out into the waiting room where several CPD officers were awaiting updates on Harrison's wounded partner, Detective Tran, who was in surgery.

"Captain!" he called out, at which point Captain Broussard got up out of his seat and came over to him.

"What's wrong, Detective?" the captain asked, sensing the insistence in the detective's voice. The two went over to a corner of the waiting room so they could talk discreetly.

"There's something going on with one of my informants", Harrison began to explain, "I just got a call from him. He was in an area with bad reception, so all I could make out was that his sister had been kidnapped."

Captain Broussard nodded. "Okay", he said, "Between you and me, who is this guy?"

"His name's Aiden Pearce", Harrison said, "He's some sort of skilled hacker who's somehow connected to the May Stadium murders, the car accident and assault that Dobbs and Brooks worked on a little while ago, and maybe even what just happened at Palin Correctional."

"And you say his sister's supposedly been kidnapped?" Broussard asked.

"Yes", Harrison said, "Her name's Nicole Pearce. She's the lady who was being harassed by the guy who was victimized in Dobbs and Brooks' assault investigation, remember?"

Broussard nodded once again. "Right", he said. The captain then turned and signaled across the room to Detective Dobbs, waving him over to where he and Harrison were.

"What's going on, guys?" Dobbs asked.

"Dobbs", Harrison said, "Do you remember that lady who you and Brooks interviewed when you were helping out the Thirty-First District a few days ago?"

Dobbs nodded. "Sure, I remember her", he replied, "Nicole Pearce. She was really forthcoming with us about the harassing phone calls she had received from that guy Frank Janson. Isn't her brother that guy Aiden Pearce we interviewed after you arrested him that day?"

Harrison sighed. "Yeah", he replied with an apprehensive tone, "I'm sorry to let the cat out of the bag, but Aiden is actually my informant now."

Dobbs shot a look to Captain Broussard. "Is this for real?" Dobbs asked.

"I'm afraid so, Detective", Broussard said, "Commander Brooks and the CtOS Task Force both signed off on it after he talked to you guys that day."

"In any case", Harrison interjected, "Nicole Pearce has been kidnapped and I think Aiden has gone off halfcocked in pursuit of both her and whoever it was who kidnapped her. I'm going to need some help from you guys checking this all out."

Dobbs put a reassuring hand on Harrison's shoulder. "You got it, brother", he said, "What do you need?"

"Grab Nick", Broussard instructed Dobbs, "You guys head over to Miss Pearce's house and check things out. Have a unit meet you there. She lives in High Grove, right?"

"Yes sir", Dobbs replied before going to get Detective Brooks.

"Okay", Broussard replied before turning to Detective Harrison, "Harrison, find Detective Voight and see if you can identify a location on Aiden Pearce. The rest of us will stay here and wait for an update on Sunny. I'll call if anything comes up."

Roughly ten minutes later, Detectives Harrison and Voight were in Voight's black Dodge Dakota pickup truck in transit to Parker Square. Voight was at the wheel with his new interim partner, Harrison, in the front seat. Harrison had just spent the last few minutes explaining the whole Pearce situation to Voight.

"Who does Pearce think is after his family?" Voight asked.

"I'm not exactly sure at the moment", Harrison replied candidly, "All I know is what Aiden seems to believe. He thinks there's some conspiracy involved with both his niece's death and why he was let go from the Blume Corporation back in the day. He told me once that it had something to do with his old friend from those days, but things popped off before he had the chance to tell me exactly who that was."

"Can't your buddies at the task force figure out who that is?" Voight asked.

"My supervisor there put in a formal request for Aiden's old personnel file with the higher ups at Blume", Harrison said, "but he says they've remained pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing up to this point for whatever reason."

Voight scoffed. "I smell a big old corporate cover-up", he said in a tone that was equal parts sarcastic and serious.

At that moment, Harrison looked down at his leather shoulder holster and realized it was empty. "Shit!" he exclaimed, "I don't have my gun! I had to turn it in to the Internal Affairs detective after the shootout at Palin Correctional."

"There's a Glock in the glove box", Voight said, "I use it as a backup piece, but you can borrow it for now if you want."

Harrison pulled open the glove box and discovered there was indeed a Glock G17 handgun inside. He promptly grabbed it, checked the weapon's ammo magazine, and placed it in his holster. "Thanks", he said with a grin.

Detective Dobbs' voice was soon heard over Harrison's portable radio. "Thirty-Four-Henry-Charlie calling for Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward on Channel Two", he said, "Harrison, are you on the air?"

Harrison keyed the radio's mic. "Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward here", he said into the radio, "I copy. Go ahead, Dobbs, over."

"Ten-Four", Dobbs replied, "We just arrived at the Pearce place. There's nobody here, but the kitchen looks pretty trashed. It looks like there was a very recent struggle, over."

"Any sign of Nicole's son, over?" Harrison asked.

"Negative", Dobbs replied from the radio.

Harrison let out a very vexed sigh before keying the mic once again. "Ten-Four", he said into the radio, "Call for the Crime Lab. Have them take photographs and dust that kitchen for prints. I think one of our combatants was Aiden Pearce. It goes without saying that whoever he was scrapping with could be either his sister's kidnapper or at the very least someone who might know who that could be, over."

"I got you", Dobbs replied through the radio, "I'll get the lab people here right away. Brooks and I can hold down the scene until then, over."

"Copy that", Harrison said, "I'll get back to you guys in a bit. Thanks for your help, over."

"Ten-Four", Dobbs replied from the radio, "Thirty-Four-Henry-Charlie out."

"Copy that", Harrison said, "Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward out."

"Do you think they kidnapped the Pearce lady's son too?" Voight asked Harrison.

"I don't know", Harrison replied just as an idea struck him, "But I think I might know how we can find out where the kid is."

Harrison clipped his portable radio to the belt loop of his pants before taking out his cell phone from his right-hand pocket. He dialed The Aquarium, at which point Agent Lavinia "Vin" Taylor answered after two rings.

"Task Force Command Center", Taylor answered, "This is Agent Taylor."

"Hey Vin", Harrison said into the phone, "It's Troy Harrison. Listen, I'm in the middle of an 'exigent circumstances' type of situation here. There's a woman missing and her ten-year-old son may be in danger. I don't have time to fill out a subpoena and send it to you guys right now."

"Say no more, man", Taylor replied in an encouraging tone, "I'll square it with Doctor Bartholomew for you later. What do you need?"

"I need you do to do a CtOS search for any personal devices registered to a Jackson Pearce", Harrison explained, "Date of Birth April Fourth Two-Thousand. Now, the boy's a minor, so if you strike out on finding anything in his name, run his mom."

Harrison could hear his colleague typing on her keyboard from his side of the line. "You got it", Taylor said after a few seconds, "I'm not finding anything in the kid's name, what's his mom's info?"

"His mom is Nicole Pearce", Harrison replied, "Her DOB is March Sixth Nineteen-Seventy-Seven. I need the kid's exact location so we can make sure he's okay."

The sounds of Agent Taylor's typing lasted for roughly forty-five seconds before she chimed back in. "Okay", she finally said, "I've got something. I'm showing three personal devices registered to Nicole Pearce. One is a cell phone that appears to be turned off at the moment, so there's no GPS ping available. The second appears to be a laptop, which is currently on. GPS ping appears to be locked in at Two-Four-One High Grove Street in Parker Square."

"That's their house", Harrison clarified, "Two of our guys are there now. We think that's where Nicole was abducted from. What about the third device?"

"Hmmm", Taylor uttered inquisitively, "The device info says it's a tablet and it's currently active. The GPS ping is in motion, and based on my map here, I'd guess your boy is riding one of the elevated trains. The ping appears to be on its way toward the Paulson train stop."

An impressed Harrison scoffed with a grin. "You're a rock star, Vin."

"Thanks", Taylor replied, "right back at you, man."

"Tell Bartholomew I'll fill him in on all this tonight", Harrison replied, "I owe you big time for this. Thank you."

Harrison abruptly hung up and turned to Voight. "The boy's on the El headed for the train stop at Paulson, Hank. Let's go."

Voight activated the set of strobing blue police lights mounted on the grille of the pickup truck and gunned the vehicle toward the elevated train stop at Paulson. Detective Olinsky's voice came over the radio a moment or two later.

"Twenty-One-George-Charlie calling for Twenty-One-George-Bravo on Channel Two. Hank, you there?"

Voight picked up the truck's CB radio mic with one hand and promptly keyed it to respond. "Ten-Four, Al", he said into the radio, "Go ahead, over."

"Be advised", Olinsky said from the radio, "the Thirty-First District's channel is airing multiple calls for 'Shots Fired' in the area of Paulson train stop. OEMC shows your location heading towards that area, over."

"Ten-Four", Voight replied into the radio, "That's right. We're headed toward the train stop now, over."

"The shooting suspect may be in your immediate area, Hank", Olinsky said from the radio, "Suspect vehicle is described as a burgundy late model Corvette, Illinois plates Seven-Kilo-Three-Four-Nine-Seven. I'm headed your way with some patrol units now, over."

An apprehensive Harrison then looked to Voight and shook his head in objection. He took the radio mic from him and keyed it. "Twenty-One-George-Charlie, this is Detective Harrison", he said, "The subject in the Corvette is possibly being tailed by potentially armed and hostile suspects. I suggest you and your backup slow down and let us handle this. We'll advise further if we need help. I do not, repeat, I do not want this subject spooked, over."

Harrison could hear Olinsky sigh in opposition over the radio. "Copy that", Olinsky replied after a beat, "Twenty-One-George-Charlie out."

Voight then shot Harrison a resentful look to Harrison as the latter placed the radio mic back in its rightful place. "What the hell did you do that for?" Voight said in a perturbed tone.

"Say what you will about Aiden Pearce, Hank", Harrison said, "But the man is no threat whatsoever to Chicago PD. He's just trying to protect his sister and his nephew. I don't always agree with his methods, but I think any one of us would go to hell and back if our families were in trouble."

The resentful look then left Voight's face and he sat back in his seat, contemplating Harrison's point. "My wife, Camille, died of cancer a few years ago", he explained, "We have a son named Justin. Let's just say I don't always agree with some of his methods or life choices either. But you're right. I would go to hell and back for my boy if he was in trouble."

Harrison and Voight soon arrived at the Paulson train stop, promptly parking and exiting the truck. They ascended the stairs and reached the train platform in time to see Aiden Pearce and his nephew, Jackson, exit a stopped train. They saw a short, middle-aged Hispanic woman with dark hair in a beige trench coat approach the two of them.

"Hey!" the woman greeted the boy in a very warm and genuinely empathetic tone before hugging him, "Hello sweetheart!" She then turned her gaze to Aiden. "What's going on, Mister Pearce?" she asked him, "Where's Nicky?"

"It's been a rough week", Aiden replied, "She's forced herself to get rid of Lena's stuff, and I think she's finally saying her goodbyes."

"How bad is it?" the woman asked in a very concerned tone.

"It's bad", Aiden said in a very candid tone.

"She should call me", the woman replied.

"Well", Aiden said, "she wanted me to call you. See, we were wondering if you could look after Jacks for a few days? We'll pay you, of course."

"Of course," the woman sweetly replied without even stopping to think, "I'll help in any way I can."

"That'd be great", Aiden said, "Thank you."

"Nicky needs to grieve", the woman said with a noticeable amount of insight unique to a social worker or psychiatrist, "I know it's hard, but it's a good thing."

Aiden nodded. "It's been rough", he said before playfully patting his nephew's shoulder, "but we'll work it out. Right?"

Jackson nodded, now apparently reassured by his uncle's sentiment.

The kind Hispanic woman then knelt to Jackson. "Okay, little man", she said good-humoredly, "We're going to cause some trouble."

Another train arrived on the opposite platform and opened its doors. The woman gently ushered Jackson aboard the train car. "Let's go", she said. The young boy waved goodbye to his uncle.

"See you soon", Aiden said to the pair as the doors closed.

Aiden turned around as the train took off. He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he saw Harrison and Voight standing at the top of the stairs, realizing they had seen the whole exchange between him, his nephew, and the kind Hispanic woman.

"Hey stranger", Harrison said to Pearce before motioning to Voight, "This is Detective Hank Voight. He and I are going to be partners for a while."

Aiden nodded to Voight. "Understood", he said, "but what are you guys doing here?"

Voight stepped forward. "I think you have to explain a few things to us, Mister Pearce", he said, "What do you say the three of us take a ride?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: A Different Kind of Island Getaway**

_[Author's Note: For this chapter, I kind of had to jump around in the Watch Dogs timeline a little bit so that things would jive better with my now revised vision of the story. Therefore, we'll be heading to Aiden and Clara's bunker a little ahead of schedule. I actually had a whole different plan for this chapter, but a recent guest review inspired me to change things up a bit! Thanks to that particular guest for giving me the idea, by the way! Also, another guest (not sure if it was the same one) asked if Aiden had that chat with Raul. I made sure to add some details here that should hopefully answer that question to your satisfaction.]_

_Abbot Island  
30 Minutes Later_

Detectives Harrison and Voight mutually decided that it was time for Aiden Pearce to fully explain himself, and that they would need a place that was as isolated as possible for the three of them to have the conversation. Always the persuasive free-thinker, Aiden convinced the detectives to bring him to bring him to an unpopulated island that housed three now seemingly abandoned buildings that had been decommissioned some time ago.

Abbot Island was a small island on Lake Michigan that was only reachable by a retractable steel bridge that was controlled remotely. From the 1940's to the early 1970's, the island was home to the Ogden Steel Company. This company was once a thriving business that supplied steel to half the Midwest. Unfortunately, the business went belly up when a substantial number of staffers either joined the military, were drafted into the Vietnam War, or left their positions to protest against what they felt was a faulty and/or outright corrupt establishment.

Since the inception of the internet, rumors had swirled around the hacker community about a bunker that was supposedly located somewhere in one of the buildings, but no one up to this point was ever able to prove whether or not the enigmatic place truly existed. However, thanks to Aiden's persistence and his associate Clara's enthusiasm, the two hackers were able to prove that the bunker did indeed exist.

Voight pulled his Dodge Dakota up to the retractable bridge, which at the moment was retracted into an improper position. He looked to Pearce, who was seated in the backseat of the truck.

"How are we supposed to get on to this island of yours?" he asked.

Pearce then produced his cell phone from his pocket, aimed it at the bridge, and pressed a button. The bridge then turned with a loud mechanical whirring sound, aligning itself properly with the truck's position, at which point Voight steadily rolled the truck across the bridge and onto Abbot Island itself. Once he parked the truck in front of one of the old buildings, the three men promptly exited the vehicle and took in their surroundings.

Voight looked around and smiled at the sight of all the worn black and white Ogden Steel Company banners and signs which still hung on and around the old boarded up buildings. "Heh", he said with a chuckle, "Ogden Steel Company. I used to see their billboards all over the city when I was in high school. My dad used to comment on how many of their ads were in his newspaper every morning."

With Voight's mention of his father, Harrison's look changed. "Your dad was a cop too, right?"

Voight nodded. "CPD, nineteen years", he replied, "How'd you know that?"

"A couple of the veteran coppers back at the Thirty-Four mentioned both him and you a few times", Harrison said, "They said he was killed on the job. I'm sorry."

"Thanks, kid", Voight said, "District Twenty-One was his home away from home. When he died and I joined CPD, I figured it could be mine, too."

Aiden Pearce then cut in on the conversation. "The elevator's this way, gentlemen", he said as he pointed to a corner beside one of the buildings. He then guided the detectives to a large red shipping container with a sizeable Blume logo stamped on its side.

"This island looks to be littered with discarded junk", Harrison said as he noted the big logo, "What did the Blume Corporation want with a bunch of old buildings and unused equipment?"

Pearce then threw open the door and waved them inside the container. "Clara and I did a bunch of research to try and figure that out", he began to explain as Harrison and Voight entered the bunker and pulled the door closed behind them, "Best as we could tell, they wanted to have some sort of failsafe facility so they'd have an off-site place for certain people to work. This bunker we found has a bunch of secondhand Blume computer equipment in it that we guess hasn't been touched by human hands since the corporation opened up shop in Chicago."

Pearce pressed a button on his phone, at which point the container was automatically lifted by a crane up and over before finally being set inside what appeared to be the second or third story of one of the old Ogden buildings. The valiant hacker opened the door once again, and once Harrison and Voight exited the makeshift elevator, the two detectives found themselves inside some sort of entryway.

"Where the hell are we?" an impatient Voight asked.

Pearce said nothing in response as he pulled open the sliding interior door. Beyond this door was a huge, open-spaced chamber of a room. A huge bank of high-definition monitors was at the forefront of this room, and the sight of this reminded Harrison of The Aquarium and the CtOS Task Force.

"Holy shit, Aiden!" Harrison exclaimed, "Blume must've been sitting on a goddamn goldmine here for all those years."

Clara Lille had been working at the bunker's main computer, and paused her focus to turn and notice the two strangers who had entered their bunker. She yelled something at Pearce in French, which Harrison figured was some sort of swear word.

Voight chuckled at the sight of the mohawked, heavily-tattooed woman and her protestations. "Where did he find her, I wonder?" Voight softly uttered to Harrison. Harrison grinned in retort.

"Damn it, Aiden!" Clara said to Pearce, "You said we shouldn't tell people about this place! And you bring two strangers in here? Why?"

Pearce sighed to compose himself, all but ignoring his associate's obvious frustration. "Detective Harrison", he said as he gestured to Clara, "This is Clara Lille. Clara, this is Detective Harrison with the Chicago PD." He then gestured to Voight. "This is his partner, Detective…" his voice momentarily trailed off.

"Hank Voight", Voight chimed in, "So, you guys are with that DeadSec group everybody's been whispering about, huh?"

Clara nodded apprehensively. "Which is why we usually wouldn't invite police in here", she said candidly.

The two detectives descended the stairs. "I have a major bone to pick with you, Aiden", Harrison said as he got straight down to business, "What the hell were you doing at Palin Correctional today?"

Pearce hung his head in angst. "I was looking for one of the Viceroy gang members who escaped the stadium the other night", he replied.

Voight scoffed. "Nice mess you left for us", he said, "We know Maurice Vega was there that night, too, Pearce. Why don't you tell us what went down?"

Pearce sighed. "I got some intel that there was an inmate there who was the only survivor from the stadium", he began to explain.

Harrison nodded in acknowledgement. "Raul Lionzo", he said, "Detective Tran and I were clued into him about the same time that you were, as it seems."

"I managed to find him through the CtOS cameras", Pearce continued, "I followed him down to the basement laundry were some CO's were beating him up. Next thing I know, you and the other detective showed up and all hell broke loose."

"You don't have to tell me that, Aiden", Harrison snapped, "All that gunplay put my partner…my friend…in Chicago Med with a gunshot wound in her shoulder!"

"I'm sorry", Pearce said after a beat, "I never intended for either of you guys to get hurt. How is she doing?"

"It looks like she's going to be fine", Voight said, "But like Troy said, we need the facts here. What happened after the laundry room shootout?"

"I cornered Raul", Pearce replied, "We had a little chat. I cautioned him against blabbing to other inmates or talking to the cops, and then I took off."

Voight took a minute to take in Aiden's peculiar details. "You are aware that just by telling us this", he said with an instructive tone in his voice, "We can arrest you for obstruction."

"Actually Hank", Harrison said, "We can't. I registered Aiden as a joint CPD and federal task force informant. His federal status gives him conditional immunity from prosecution."

"Obviously", Pearce said, "My first priority is to find Nicky, but it's going to take some work on all our parts. I think the issue we should focus on for now is that the dirty CO's who were beating up Raul seemed to know about the stadium thing."

"Alright", Harrison said, "Then I think it goes without saying that the senior staff may also be involved. The warden's name is Malich. Peter Malich."

Voight's face was suddenly overtaken by a look of bewilderment. "Wait a minute", he said, "Peter Malich? He was a Chicago cop for twenty years. We used to work Patrol together back in the day. I had no idea he'd gone into Corrections."

"Did you get along with him back then?" Harrison asked.

Voight shook his head. "Not really", he replied, "He was an arrogant dickhead, actually. As a matter of fact, he was fired after he was charged with physically abusing his wife at the time. Even though the jury found him guilty, he used his connections to pretty much cherry-pick his own punishment, so all he got was ninety days of community service."

Harrison nodded as he absorbed Voight's information. "Even so", he said, "his conviction would've made finding any future work in law enforcement pretty much impossible."

Clara, meanwhile, was busy pulling up all various pieces of official information on Peter Malich as she listened to the conversation going on behind her. "So", she chimed in, "Monsieur Malich goes for what he thinks is the next best thing and ends up heading Chicago's newest and biggest privately-funded correctional center. This says here that most of the money that funds the prison comes from various charitable donations."

Voight scoffed at that. "'charitable donations'", he said, "Yeah, right. I'm almost afraid to ask this, but how much do they rake in per year?"

Clara typed something on her keyboard and brought up a large bar graph showing Palin Correctional Center's total funding, at which point she gasped, apparently out of surprise. "_Mon Dieu!_" she exclaimed in French, "it looks like Palin Correctional receives approximately nine-hundred-thousand a year worth of these so called 'donations'."

"Okay", Voight said, "So if we get to Malich, we can peel back more of the onion that makes up this little conspiracy we've found."

"Sounds about right", Harrison replied, "The question is, though, how exactly can we do that?"

Voight grinned as he took out his cell phone, speciously having some sort of trick up his sleeve. "Don't ask, don't tell, kid", he said. He dialed a number and stepped to the corner of the room for a bit of privacy. "Hey Alvin", he said softly into the phone, "Does your uncle still have that boat?"

_Lake Michigan  
Later That Night_

Olinsky pulled a cloth hood off Peter Malich's head. The corrupt warden fought and struggled against the huge chain secured around his waist. He, Voight, and Olinsky were sitting in a tattered old rowboat smack dab in the middle of Lake Michigan.

Voight looked Malich dead in the face from a very uncomfortably close distance. With gloved hands, the detective grabbed for the edge of the piece of duct tape covering the man's mouth. "How goes it, Peter?" he said, "Long time no see, buddy."

He roughly pulled the duct tape off, at which point Malich grunted in pain. "What the fuck, Hank?" he said while panting with anxiety, "Why are you assholes doing this?"

"We have a huge problem with ex-cop wife-beater shitheads who condone treating human beings like crap", Olinsky said.

"Especially when that kind of behavior results in situations that put two of our friends in harm's way", Voight added, "One of your asshole CO's shot our sister officer and put her in the hospital."

"…And your boy detective, Harrison", Malich snapped, "Shot and killed one of my best men. His young, stupid ass is lucky I don't sue him for half a million dollars!" He chuckled arrogantly.

With that, Voight landed a solid left hook square in the center of Malich's gut. The corrupt warden then coughed and gagged in pain.

"I think you've got bigger problems, Peter", Voight said as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and removed a ring of keys. "Ah", he said as he came upon a specific key and held it in Malich's face, "ProviBlue Bank. Looks like a safety deposit box key, doesn't it, Al?"

"Sure does", Olinsky said, "I wonder what Mister Petey here is hiding in that box, hmmm?"

Malich coughed. "It's nothing", he said, "Just some payroll shit and money I've set aside to pay the prison's utilities…"

Sensing his obvious lie, Voight gut-punched the corrupt warden once again. "You don't need to set money aside for that, dumb-ass", he said, "You get nine-hundred-grand a year to fund your goddamn prison! Let me guess, that money is set aside to extort people, right?"

Malich said nothing and instead just sat stone-faced, staring at Voight.

"Where's your safety deposit box, huh?" Voight asked, "Which branch?"

"Fuck you", Malich uttered.

Voight inhaled deeply before landing a heavy sucker punch to Malich's face. "I'm sorry, Peter", he said, "I didn't catch that. Which branch?"

"Twenty-Sixth and Cal", he said, "That bank down the block from the court house. What are you guys going to do to me?"

A loud scream then pierced the quiet night sky.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: Ten Percent**

_Brewed Delight Coffee Shop  
The Wards  
The Next Morning  
5:30 AM_

An overtired Detective Harrison staggered into the Brewed Delight Coffee Shop that was within an easy walking distance of CPD District 34. As was the case every morning since his arrival in Chicago, he was greeted by the shop's young and eagerly hardworking Indian morning clerk, Aaranay. The young man noticed Harrison's very evidently out of sorts appearance as soon as he walked in the door.

"Good morning, Mister Harrison!" Aaranay warmly greeted.

"Morning, Aaranay", Harrison dryly replied, "I'll have my usual, please."

The young man nodded and crossed to the large industrial carafe behind him, pouring some freshly-made hot coffee into a Styrofoam cup, adding milk and two small packets worth of sugar into the beverage per Harrison's habitual preference. "Here you are, sir", he said in his usually warm tone.

Harrison nodded, raising the cup to the young clerk with one hand and sliding the required three-dollar payment to him with the other. "I appreciate it, my man", he said, "Thanks."

"You're very welcome", Aaranay kindly replied, "If it's alright, may I ask you a personal question?"

Though he was a bit put off by the young man's sudden, but obviously well-meaning inquiry, Harrison nodded. "Sure", he said.

Aaranay then came out from behind the counter and stepped over to Harrison. He made sure to speak to him softly as to not attract unnecessary attention from other patrons. "Are you alright?" he asked, "I have seen you in here every morning over the past few weeks and I don't think I've ever seen you so…tired."

Harrison could tell that Aaranay was just trying to be nice and show concern. "I've been up all night", he said, "Hey, it's part of being a Chicago cop, right?" Realizing that the concerned look on the young man's face hadn't changed, he sighed. "Look", he said after a beat, "I've been under a lot of stress lately, but I'll be okay. There's no reason to be worried, but I do appreciate your concern, Aaranay, you're a good guy." He patted the young man's shoulder.

Aaranay nodded apprehensively. "If there's anything you need from me", he said, "Please don't ever be afraid to ask."

Harrison nodded. "I won't", he said, "Thanks again, Aaranay."

The wearied detective crossed to his usual booth which faced the shop's large front window. He soon heard the upbeat sound of a musical chime, which indicated to him that someone had opened the door and entered the shop. He was rather startled to be joined in his booth by Hank Voight.

"Morning, Hank", he said, "How'd you know I'd be here this early in the morning, man?"

"Get real, kid", Voight replied, "Every copper in the Thirty-Fourth District gets breakfast here. I figured since I'm going to be here for a bit until Sunny comes back, I might as well start coming here, too. Unless you'd rather be alone."

Harrison shook his head as he sipped his coffee. "No worries", he said reassuringly, "That's fine."

Voight nodded. "Good", he said, his tone abruptly changing from one of lightheartedness to one that was rather stern and seemed to now be one of trepidation.

"What's going on, Hank?" Harrison asked candidly, wanting his interim partner to get straight to whatever point he was trying to make, "Is something wrong?"

"Unfortunately, yes", Voight said before sighing deeply. "Look", he said after a beat, "You're a really good cop, Troy, and you seem to be a really good partner. I certainly don't mean to embarrass you, but I am worried that what you're doing off duty could have a very damaging effect for you in the long run."

With that, Harrison put down his coffee cup and leaned in closer. "What exactly is it you think I'm doing?" he austerely asked.

"Well", Voight replied, "That faint odor of vodka and orange juice on your breath is quite the giveaway, if you want me to play it straight with you. Just so you know, brushing your teeth and using mouthwash only masks that shit. It doesn't make anything disappear."

Harrison scoffed at that. "So, I drink when I'm off the clock", he said, "I'm certainly not the first homicide cop to do that, especially in a gritty city like this."

"Amen, brother", Voight said, "I've been on this job almost twenty years and have seen all manner of death, pain, violence, and bullshit. I used to drink like a damn fish a lot myself, especially after my wife died."

"Pardon my being so blunt", Harrison said, "What's your damn point then, man?"

"My point is", Voight began, "After I stopped trying to numb my pain and drink away my grief, I realized I had a young son to raise and a city to protect. It's okay to have a drink every now and then, but pounding them all down at once is only going to kick your ass in the future, bro."

Harrison sighed deeply at that sentiment. "I hear you, Hank", he finally said after an extended moment of self-reflection, "I really do. Thank you for your concern, and I promise to try and work on myself. I promise never to put you or anyone else at risk." He extended a hand to his newfound confidant.

Voight returned the response, shaking Harrison's hand tightly. "I know you won't, kid", he said with his tone changing back to one of more sincerity, "Because none of us who genuinely have your back will ever let you. Sergeant Mahoney wanted to bring all this up to you earlier, but then Sunny got shot and we all got sidetracked."

Harrison managed a smile. "So, she thought all that would've been better coming from a tough son of a bitch like you, huh?" he asked in a smart-mouthed manner.

This spur-of-the-moment intervention was interrupted by the familiar theme music from the WKZ news jingle coming from the shop's large high-definition TV that was mounted above the counter. Barbara Snow, a lofty and stunning golden blonde tan-skinned anchorwoman in her late forties, appeared on the screen just as the two detectives turned to watch.

"This is your WKZ afternoon news break", she began, "I'm Barbara Snow." Footage of Palin Correctional Center appeared on screen. Several men and women in CPD uniforms and FBI raid jackets were bringing people out of the center's main building in handcuffs. "A shocking scandal within Chicago's Palin Correctional Center was brought to light today", Barbara narrated as the footage continued playing, "As agents from the FBI's Chicago Field Office received an anonymous tip this morning reporting alleged acts of corruption and inmate abuse by the correctional center staff, mainly the Center's Warden, Peter Malich. Assisted by officers from the Chicago Police Department, they descended upon the center roughly one hour later. Several arrests were made, but it's not known what the charges are at this time."

An image of Peter Malich sporting a very phony smile then appeared on screen. "Prior to becoming the Warden of the new cutting-edge correctional center, Peter Malich spent twenty years as a Chicago police officer", Barbara continued narrating, "However, a subsequent investigation by WKZ yielded the discovery of court records which indicated that Malich was found guilty of committing acts of domestic violence against his then wife and apparently served only ninety days of community service. We reached the CPD's Public Information Officer, whose only comment was that Malich had been terminated from the police department two years ago. Malich himself, however, could not be reached for comment. For WKZ news, I'm Barbara Snow."

Harrison's gaze snapped back to Voight. "What the hell did you guys do?" he asked.

Voight's phone rang before he had the chance to properly explain what he and Olinsky had done the night before.

"Voight", he answered, "Okay. Where? At the beach? We're on our way, we're about ten minutes out. Thanks."

"Who was that?" Harrison asked as Voight put his phone back in his pocket.

"Captain Broussard", Voight replied, "A patrol unit in the Nineteenth District found a floater washed up on shore at North Avenue Beach. He wants us on scene ASAP."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: A Loose End**

_North Avenue Beach  
10 Minutes Later_

Detectives Harrison and Voight arrived to find a very hectic and crowded scene on the shores of Chicago's infamous North Avenue Beach. Aside from what seemed like hundreds of onlookers and beachgoers who had been pushed aside so the area could be designated as a crime scene, several reporters and senior CPD staff had apparently descended onto the scene. Voight had noted the presence of at least three commanding officers, all of whom were wearing the unique white uniform shirts unique to senior staff, and pointed them out to Harrison.

"This must be one major scene", Voight discreetly said as he pointed to one particular "white shirt" who was talking to Captain Broussard, "That's the First Deputy Superintendent talking with the captain."

"That's First Deputy Barron?" Harrison asked with a soft yet still anxious tone in his voice.

Voight nodded. "Yep", he replied in just as mellifluous a tone as his partner.

"Why the hell is he here for a beach floater?" Harrison asked.

The gruff detective shrugged his shoulders. "No idea, bro", he said, "Let's find out."

The partners made their way to the area just outside the taped off crime scene area where Captain Broussard, First Deputy Superintendent Barron, and Barron's official driver, Officer Frank Milne, were congregated and talking amongst themselves.

"Good morning Captain!" Harrison greeted.

Broussard then turned and extended a hand to his detective. "Morning, Detective!" he said to Harrison before repeated the gracious gesture with Voight, "Morning, Hank!"

"John", Voight politely said to the captain as he reciprocated the handshake.

Broussard then gestured to the First Deputy Superintendent. "I assume that you've both met First Deputy Barron", he said.

Voight saluted the First Deputy for a brief moment before shaking the man's hand. "Good morning sir", he said, "It's good to see you again."

"Detective Voight", Barron said, "I thought you were assigned to the Gang Unit at the Twenty-First."

"Hank's filling in for my partner while she recovers, sir", Harrison cut in.

"This is Detective Troy Harrison, Walter", Broussard clarified for the First Deputy as he gestured to Harrison, "He was partnered with Sunny Tran at the time of her shooting."

Barron frowned for a beat. "Oh", he said as he extended a hand to Harrison, "I'm so sorry for what happened to her and I'm sorry we're not meeting under better circumstances, Detective."

Harrison civilly reciprocated the handshake. "I appreciate that, sir", Harrison replied, "I spoke to Sunny on the phone last night. She'll be discharged from Chicago Med the day after tomorrow."

Barron nodded. "That's good to hear", he said.

"If you don't mind my asking", Voight said, "What brings you out here from the Ivory Tower, First Deputy?"

"I understand you had a Palin Correctional inmate named Raul Lionzo help you give aid to Detective Tran when she was shot", Barron said, addressing Harrison, "Is that right?"

"Yes sir", Harrison said, "Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry to say that it's Mister Lionzo's body that washed up here this morning", Barron said, "Superintendent Daniels asked me to come down here just to observe things and report back to him."

A mutually befuddled Voight and Harrison traded looks upon hearing this sudden and very unusual news. "I…I don't get it", Harrison said, "It was our understanding that Raul was supposed to still be serving a jail sentence for a heroin beef."

"After the FBI was tipped off about the corruption at Palin Correctional", Barron began to explain, "The Governor ordered the facility shuttered immediately. All the remaining inmates were sent over to the Cook County Jail, including Mister Lionzo. Someone apparently posted his bail and sprung him not long after he arrived there."

"Who bailed him out?" Voight asked.

"That's what we need you guys to find out, Hank", Captain Broussard said.

The captain then motioned to a young white man appearing to be in his early thirties, kneeling next to the sheet-covered body, apparently taking notes. The man wore a black hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans and had a CPD Detective's badge around his neck. "That's Detective Jeff Shadley", Broussard continued, "He's with Narcotics at the Thirty-First District. He busted Lionzo a while back for possessing a felony amount of heroin. We put him in charge of the scene here until you guys arrived. I suggest you guys start with him."

Harrison and Voight made their way across the sandy beach to where Detective Shadley was kneeling. "Detective Shadley?" Harrison inquired.

Shadley rose to an upright standing position, putting his memo book in the front satchel pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. "That's me", he replied, "You guys are the Homicide detectives from the Thirty-Fourth, I take it."

Harrison nodded before extending a hand to Shadley. "That's right", he said, "I'm Troy Harrison." He then gestured to Voight, "This is Hank Voight."

The detective shook both of their hands before kneeling back down beside the yellow plastic sheet covering the body. "I'm sorry we're not meeting under more suitable circumstances, fellas", he said.

"Agreed", Harrison said, "What can you tell us about the contact you had with Raul when you busted him?"

"Almost three weeks ago", Shadley began, "My squad received an anonymous tip through the CPD Narcotics tip line about people supposedly dealing high-quality heroin out of a derelict apartment building in Irving Park. We sat on the place for eight days to gather intel, raided it, and took a half dozen people into custody on various charges. My lieutenant ordered me to follow Mister Lionzo from the bust to the courtroom, which I did."

"Did the judge give him high bail?" Harrison said, "It seems strange to me that someone would post bail for him when he was fourteen days into a sixty-day sentence."

"No", Shadley said, "His bail was about the average amount for a felony heroin charge, but Lionzo told me a bunch of times that he just could afford to put up the amount himself."

Harrison nodded. "I'll look into who posted his bail as soon as we get back to the squad room", he said, "I can't imagine anybody in his social orbit being able to post bail after keeping him cooped up in jail for fourteen days."

The three detectives then knelt to the neon yellow sheet covering the body. Harrison donned a pair of blue nitrile exam gloves and carefully pulled the sheet back at head level, exposing a very noticeably gruesome gunshot wound to Raul Lionzo's head. His corpse had become rather bloated from the accumulation of bacterial gases, which was a common indicator of decomposition.

"Damn!" Harrison exclaimed, "They got him right between the eyes." Pulling down the sheet a bit further, Harrison saw what looked to him like large pieces of seaweed clinging to the deceased's jacket, undershirt, and ragged jeans. He looked to Detective Shadley. "Who called in the body?" he asked.

"A two-man patrol unit responded to a nine-one-one call about people screaming on the beach", Shadley replied.

Harrison gestured to the seaweed. "Based on all this seaweed and the bloating of the body", he explained, "I'd say our late pal here was dumped from a boat, at which point his body sank to the bottom of Lake Michigan and got caught in some of the seaweed that drifts in from the Atlantic. He sat down there for however long until what I'm guessing were built up body gases caused him to float up here to the surface this morning."

Shadley grinned. "Were you a medical examiner in an old life or something?" he asked in a humorous tone.

Harrison shook his head. "I haven't been a Homicide cop here in Chicago for very long", he said, "But I have extensive training in forensic science. Needless to say, Detective, I've seen my share of putrid bodies."

Shadley nodded. "I got you", he said, "I'm going to head back to my district. If I come upon anything that may help, I'll call you guys."

"Okay", Harrison replied, "Talk to Captain Broussard before you take off. He'll give you our cell numbers. Thanks for your help."

Shadley nodded and walked away. Harrison briefly lifted the sleeves of Lionzo's jacket and noticed something. "Hank", he said to Voight as he waved him over to the body.

Voight knelt down beside his partner accordingly. "What is it?" he asked.

Harrison used both hands to lift up both of Lionzo's sleeves simultaneously. A partial albeit very deep rail-like bruise pattern was seen on the front of each wrists. "Handcuffs", Voight said softly, "You think Raul was offed by a cop?"

Harrison said nothing as he looked over to where First Deputy Superintendent was standing. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone, at which point he removed one of his gloves and pocketed it before answering.

"Harrison", he answered.

"Hi Detective", Lieutenant Broussard replied from her end of the line, "It's Kathy Broussard from Narcotics calling."

"Yes Lieutenant", Harrison said as he rose to a stand and switched ears with his cell, "How can I help you?"

"I thought you'd like to know that Abby Asher and Ernie Machado got back from their undercover assignment just now", Lieutenant Broussard replied, "Abby says she stumbled onto something that might tie into a case that you guys are working."

"Copy that, ma'am", Harrison said, "Voight and I are working a homicide scene at North Avenue Beach at the moment but we'll be finishing up shortly. We'll be back at the district as soon as we can."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25: "What's Going on With You?"**

Detectives Harrison and Voight entered CPD District 34 to find a man in a very debonaire-looking black and white three-piece Houndstooth suit standing by Sergeant Mahoney's desk, holding a white cardboard evidence box. He also wore a CPD Detective's badge on a chain around his neck.

"I'll meet you upstairs", Voight said softly to Harrison, "Just so you know, that cop at the desk is from Internal Affairs. We've crossed paths a few times."

As Voight went to head upstairs to the squad room, Harrison crossed to the unfamiliar man in the suit. "Detective Harrison, right?" the man inquired.

"That's me", Harrison replied as he cordially extended a hand to the well-dressed detective, "And you are…?"

The detective shook Harrison's hand in just as amiable a manner. "Detective Lenny Marks", he said, "I'm with CPD Internal Affairs. I wanted to personally let you know that the Ivory Tower has officially cleared you of any wrongdoing in the Palin Correctional Center shooting." He then presented the cardboard evidence box to Harrison. "Here's your weapon back, Detective."

Harrison grinned with relief as he took the box and opened it, after which he removed his customized Sig-Sauer P-226 handgun and placed it in back in its rightful spot in his leather shoulder holster. Harrison had outfitted the firearm with a custom-made textured grip that he himself had crafted by hand, and the weapon had lasted him for the entirety of the time he spent in his previous occupation at the FBI.

"Thank you", the now exonerated Homicide detective said to the dubious-looking IA investigator.

Detective Marks grinned himself in response. "Just in case you were wondering, Detective", he said, "I didn't plan on joining Internal Affairs. Like you, I wanted to join Homicide. I see now why the latest spot on the squad was filled."

Harrison nodded. "I'll take that as a compliment, sir", he replied, "Here's to hoping we meet under different circumstances next time."

The reassured and vindicated detective then made his way upstairs, where he was told by a uniformed officer that everyone was meeting in the conference room. As such, he made his way down the hall and entered the large room. Sergeant Mahoney, Captain Broussard, Lieutenant Broussard, Detective Machado, Commander Brooks, Hank Voight, Alvin Olinsky, Detective Brooks, and Detective Dobbs were all seated around the conference table. Harrison was very thrilled to find Detective Asher seated at the table. The young woman then stood from her seat and reached out for a hug at the sight of her friend Harrison.

"Hey kiddo!" Harrison said cheerfully as Asher wrapped him in a very heartfelt and welcoming hug, "I'm so glad you're back. Even more so, I'm glad you're okay."

"Hey Troy", Asher replied as she broke the embrace, "It's good to be back, and yeah, I'm doing okay. I'm just glad to be me again."

Harrison nodded and sat down at the table as Asher went to her own seat. "Good morning everybody", he greeted the others, "What brings us all to the big table today?"

Detectives Asher and Machado got up from their respective seats and went to the front of the room. "As most of you know by now", Asher began, "Ernie and I have been away for a while on an undercover assignment. We've been authorized by Lieutenant Broussard, Commander Brooks, and the State's Attorney's office to divulge some of the details of our assignment, as we believe that doing so could provide assistance to some of the case that you guys have been working."

Machado then spoke up. "We began the assignment with Abby going undercover as a cocktail waitress named 'Riley Torrance' at a rough-and-ready casino in the Rossi-Fremont Housing projects", he said, "one of her main goals in the assignment was to observe and monitor drug activity in and around both the casino and the surrounding housing projects. My main job was to just hang back, watch over Abby, and snap photos of any of the major players that she reported about."

"Most of the drug operations at Rossi-Fremont go through Delford Wade, right?" Voight asked.

"Yes", Asher replied, "Our investigation determined that Delford Wade, or 'Iraq' as he known by most everybody in those projects, has about a half-dozen juveniles running both cocaine and heroin for him all up and down the North Side. I estimate his sales are somewhere in the three-hundred-thousand-dollar range or more due to their connections with the Black Viceroys."

Harrison then raised his hand. "Who are the major players associating with Wade at the projects, Abby?" he asked.

"The only real iron-clad associate that I was able to determine he had was Tyrone Hayes", Asher replied, "that's his cousin, known by the street name 'Bedbug'. He's a twenty-six-year-old black male, stands about five-ten, and weighs about two-hundred-thirty pounds."

"And he's listed as a complying witness to about a half dozen of our active Narcotics investigations", Lieutenant Broussard chimed in, "I think it's a pretty safe assumption that old Bedbug would finger his own mother if it meant that a judge would potentially give him a lighter sentence in return."

"Do we have a last known address for this 'Bedbug'?" Olinsky asked.

"He lives with their grandmother", Machado explained, "Doreen Hayes. She's a legally blind seventy-nine-year-old stroke survivor. It seems that Bedbug has been her sole caregiver for some time now."

"I don't see the point in rousing this Mister Hayes unless we have to", Commander Brooks said, "for his grandma's sake, I mean. My question is, how does this connect to Harrison and Voight's 'Raul Lionzo' case?"

"I was just getting to that, Commander", Asher replied, "Before he washed up on the beach, Ernie and I observed Mister Lionzo going in and out of Rossi-Fremont at least two or three times a week to score heroin from one of the low-level dealers. He apparently had quite the habit before somebody capped him and dumped him in the lake."

"What's making me wonder is", Voight cut in, "How does a decorated war veteran like Delford Wade become one of the biggest drug suppliers on Chicago's North Side? I guess a better question is, who's been bankrolling such a vast operation?"

"Based on the intel that Abby gathered", Machado began to explain, "A bulk of their funding seems to come from a shell corporation based in Lima, Peru called 'Lasef Enterprises'."

"Do we know anything concrete about this 'Lasef Enterprises'?" Sergeant Mahoney asked.

"The only thing we could find on them was a cheaply-made website that says the company was established in September of Two-Thousand-Two and has four shareholders", Asher replied, "One woman and three men: 'Lana Gerbsorf', 'Malcolm Wingood', 'Francis Linem', and 'Wallace Narrob'. We've been running the names through all the city and statewide databases, but so far, nothing."

Captain Broussard nodded. "Understood", he said before turning to Harrison. "Troy", he continued, "Where you guys able to find any next of kin for the late Raul Lionzo?"

"Yes sir", Harrison replied, "His paperwork from Palin Correctional lists his only known relative as his younger brother, Alejandro Lionzo. I ran Alejandro's Social Security number just before I clocked out yesterday. He's a bartender at the Unicorn and Dragon Pub here in The Wards."

"Okay", Captain Broussard said, "What do you all say we change our lineup a bit? Voight and Olinsky, I want you two to work with Detective Machado and try to dig up more dirt on The Black Viceroys and this weird shell corporation. Harrison and Asher, I want you guys to head to the Unicorn and Dragon to do the death notification on Mister Lionzo's brother."

Ten minutes later, Harrison and Asher were climbing into the former's unmarked black 2010 Chevrolet Impala LTZ. Harrison got behind the wheel, while Asher settled into the front seat and clicked on her seatbelt.

"Hey Abby?" Harrison asked as he shut his door and started buckling himself into his own seatbelt.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

Asher scoffed blithely. "We've been friends for close to twenty years, Troy", she said, "You know you can, man. What's up?"

Harrison sighed, almost hesitant to even ask. "What's going on with you?" he blurted out after a brief second, "I noticed in the conference room upstairs that when you weren't talking, you kept sniffling over and over again, like it was almost involuntary. You doing okay?" He turned the Impala's ignition over as he waited for an answer.

Asher turned and looked out the window as Harrison put the car in drive and headed out of the district's rear parking lot toward the street. "Yeah", she replied in a very dull and indifferent tone, "Just allergies. I'm fine."

Harrison turned and watched the road as he contemplated her response. Something was going on with his longtime friend, and it most certainly wasn't any sort of allergies. In any event, they had more important things to handle.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26: The Same Path**

_Unicorn and Dragon Pub  
The Wards  
12:00 PM_

Detectives Harrison and Asher pulled their unmarked police car into the rear parking area of the very chic and eclectic looking Unicorn and Dragon Pub. This trendy pub/nightclub combination was nothing more than a small building parked next to the elevated train tracks that ran through The Wards, the exterior of which was very colorfully decorated with very artfully-done graffiti that mostly featured the pub's titular mascots: the unicorn and the dragon. To put it bluntly, the business almost appeared to be somewhat out of place in a normally unsentimental neighborhood like The Wards.

"Have you ever done a death notification before?" Harrison asked Asher as they got out of the car and headed for the front entrance.

Asher nodded in response. "Yeah", she said, "But only once. When Sunny and I were riding in a patrol car together, we came upon a fatal car accident where the driver of one vehicle was DOA. He had a wife and two little boys."

"Just to warn you", Harrison began to explain, "Telling somebody's loved one that they've been the victim of a homicide is not that much easier of a feat. I suggest we don't tell him the bad news right in the middle of everybody in the bar. There's no telling what could happen when that kind of grief hits somebody."

"We take him out back or in the office then?" Asher asked.

"That sounds about right", Harrison replied.

The two detectives entered the double-doored entrance of the pub and took in the scene. The Unicorn and Dragon's interior walls were lined with very in vogue, multicolored neon graffiti that seemed to very adequately fit the establishment's theme, with different variations of the aforementioned two mascots.

The bar area was packed with very smartly-dressed collegians from the different Chicago area colleges and universities. The sight of this was very remarkable to both Harrison and Asher, considering it was only early afternoon. Meanwhile, on the pub's small dance floor, a handful of young people danced to some very frenetic techno music with roaring bass that boomed from the pair of subwoofer speakers situated in the corner of the room.

Harrison and Asher stepped to the bar where a young twenty-something African-American man was preparing drinks for the young patrons. "Excuse me?" Harrison said in a tone that immediately got the bartender's attention, "Does a guy named Alejandro Lionzo work here?"

The young man nodded in the direction of a nearby table while two-handedly shaking a beverage shaker over his shoulder. "Over there", he said, "Who's asking?"

The two detectives displayed their CPD badges for the young man. "Chicago PD, sir", Asher said, "Mister Lionzo's not in any trouble, but it's important that we talk to him."

The bartender set the shaker down and nodded. "You got it", he said to Asher before turning to the table that Lionzo was apparently serving. "Yo 'Jandro!" he called to Alejandro before motioning to the two detectives.

Harrison nodded with gratitude to the bartender. "Thanks for your help", he said before he and Asher made their way over to Alejandro.

Alejandro Lionzo was a tall, bald Hispanic man who appeared to be in his mid to late twenties. He had just finished serving a table when the detectives came up to him.

"Alejandro Lionzo?" Harrison inquired.

Alejandro nodded. "Yes", he said in an almost probing tone.

The two detectives displayed their badges for the man. "I'm Detective Harrison", he said before motioning to Asher with his eyes, "This is my colleague, Detective Asher. We're with the Chicago Police Department. Is there a place we can speak privately?"

Alejandro gestured to the pub's back door, at which point Harrison and Asher followed him out to the alley beside the building. "What's this about?" he asked as he discreetly shut the door behind him and leaned against a dingy yellow parking pole that stood beside a dumpster, his crossed arms indicating a somewhat distressed attitude.

Perhaps wanting to prove something to Harrison, Asher stepped forward and slightly bowed her head to the man out of sympathy. "It's about your brother Raul", she began, "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, sir, but your brother was found dead early this morning."

Whatever emotional walls that Alejandro had built up seemed to start crumbling as tears all but immediately came down his face. "_Dios Mio_", he uttered before wiping his tears with a bar rag he took out of his back pocket, "What happened?" he asked, "Did he overdose?"

Harrison shook his head. "No sir", he said, "His body washed up on the shore at North Avenue Beach. I'm sorry to have to admit this to you, but it appears he was murdered. He was shot."

Alejandro sniffled. "The body they pulled out of the lake earlier?" he asked, "I saw it on the news before I headed here to work. That was _mi hermano_?"

Harrison nodded regrettably. "I'm afraid so, Alejandro", he said before putting a reassuring hand on the bereaved man's shoulder. "_Lamento mucho la pérdida de Raúl_", he said softly in Spanish, offering heartfelt condolences to the young man.

Alejandro shook the detective's hand with his free hand. "_Muchas Gracias_, Detective", he said, "I appreciate you showing me respect by speaking Spanish."

"My pleasure, son", Harrison replied, "Now, if you don't mind, we do need to ask you some questions. For starters, do you know anything about your brother's recent comings and goings that could be helpful to us?"

Alejandro apprehensively shrugged his shoulders. "I wish I did", he said, "But not really. The last time I saw him was when he joined me at our mama's grave on her birthday. May Fifteenth."

"I see", Harrison said as he jotted things down in his memo book, "Did he say anything to you about how life was going for him?"

Alejandro sighed. "He kept scratching his arms over and over again", he admitted, "so I figured he was using _los narcóticos_ again. He had been on and off heroin for about two years or so. He said he had been eating meals at the soup kitchen they have at Saint Augustine's Church."

Asher wrote down the information in her own memo book. "I know that drug addictions can really take a big toll on family dynamics", she candidly said, "But even so, were you guys very close?"

"We were very close growing up, yes", Alejandro replied, "He lived with me and our mama until he enrolled in the Pharmacy Technician program at Chicago State when he was eighteen. But he dropped out after just six months. I don't know why."

"That had to be tough", Harrison said.

"It was", Alejandro replied with a nod, "But I'm happy to say that I plan on following his footsteps. I'm enrolled in that same program right now and I take classes on the nights I'm not here. I guess Raul and I thought alike, like we were on the same path or something."

Asher smiled. "Good for you", she said, "I didn't know your brother, but I know that both he and your mother would be very proud of you, Alejandro."

Alejandro smiled. "_Gracias_ to you too, Detective Asher", he said warmly.

Asher gave an equally kind smile back to Alejandro as Harrison handed him one of his business cards. "If you have any other questions", Harrison said, "Or should you think of something else that might be helpful, feel free to call me at the number on that card."

Alejandro took the card and placed it in the side pocket of his jeans before shaking each of the detectives' hands. "Thank you both so much", he said in a tone that was equal parts candid and compassionate before heading back inside the pub to get back to work.

Harrison gave Asher an impressed look as the pair started walking back to their car. "Nice job breaking that news to him, kid", he said, "Like I was saying before, it takes a certain skill to break that kind of sad news to someone. You handled it very well."

"Thanks, Troy", Asher said as she tucked her memo book and pen into the front satchel pocket of her hooded hunter's camouflage sweatshirt, "I don't know if this is a good time to be thinking about food, but I'm getting hungry. You?"

Harrison pondered things for a moment before nodding. "Yeah", he replied, "I guess I'm a bit famished, too. How about we grab a pizza and go see Sunny at the hospital?"

_Gaffney Chicago Medical Center  
Medical/Surgical Unit  
1:30 PM_

Asher and Harrison walked down the hall of the hospital unit in which the recovering Detective Tran was staying, with Harrison carrying a box containing a large Chicago style pizza in one hand. Asher, meanwhile, was talking on her cell phone before the pair was stopped by a young-looking nurse who was clad in very intensely pink scrub attire.

"Excuse me, Miss", the nurse said softly to Asher, "I'm sorry, but we don't allow cell phone use on this floor."

Asher nodded before quickly bidding goodbye to whoever she'd been talking to, hanging up her phone, and clipping it back onto the belt loop of her jeans.

Harrison looked to his friend as they resumed walking. "Dare I ask who that was?" he asked.

Asher scoffed. "It was Father O' Malley at Saint Augustine's Church", she replied, "He confirmed that Raul Lionzo had been present at their soup kitchen at least six days a week for the past month for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He apologized, but he says that he never really spoke to him at length about anything. He did say that he'll add both Raul and Alejandro to his prayer list."

"That's nice", Harrison said, "And it confirms what Alejandro had said. Good work, Detective."

Asher smiled as the pair reached Tran's room and went inside. Detective Sunny Tran was sitting up in her hospital bed, her right shoulder secured in a sling. She smiled at the sight of her friends coming into the room.

"Hey guys!" she greeted warmly.

"Hey Sunny!" Harrison said as he set the pizza box down on the wheeled table that was set up beside her bed, "We're working a case and we were hungry, so we thought we'd stop by and bring you a snack."

Tran put her unaffected hand on Harrison's shoulder. "That's really sweet of you guys. Thanks."

Asher sat on the side of the bed and gave Tran a partial hug, being careful not to go near her injured side. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm doing much better than I was when they rolled me in here", Tran said, "That's for damn sure. Doctor Willhite was able to close the wound and I haven't shown any sign of infection."

"That's great, Sunny", Harrison said, "When do they think you can go home?"

"Tomorrow, probably", Tran replied, "Captain Broussard requested that I take at least two weeks leave after that, but I'm itching to get back to work already. It's not fair that you, Brooks, and Dobbs were left shorthanded."

"We aren't shorthanded", Harrison said as he took a piece of pizza from the box, "Sergeant Mahoney pulled some strings and had Hank Voight and Alvin Olinsky temporarily re-assigned to us for a while. They've been a huge help."

"That's good", Tran said, "How's the case going?"

Harrison scoffed as he ate his pizza. "Now, now, now", he said after taking a moment to swallow, "You're on leave, Detective. As your partner, I want you to concentrate on getting better. I will tell you that I've been cleared in the shooting of that asshole who shot you, though. IA already gave me my gun back."

"The case is in good hands, Sunny", Asher chimed in, "Ernie and I have even been pitching in here and there."

Harrison eyed the flatscreen TV mounted high up on the wall across from Tran's hospital bed. "Who's up for great pizza and lousy TV reruns?" he asked.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27: Old Skeletons **

_[Author's Note: Another quick heads up, I'm going to have to do some more jumping around with the "Watch Dogs" storyline, both with this particular chapter and the next couple of succeeding ones. Sorry if this is confusing to anybody, but like I said in my last A/N regarding this, I just feel that doing so helps tie things together better for my intended concept of the story.]_

_Gaffney Chicago Medical Center  
Medical/Surgical Unit  
Sunny Tran's room  
2:30 PM_

Detectives Harrison and Asher were in the middle of having an impromptu lunch with the recuperating Detective Tran in her hospital room. The three were watching a tacky tabloid talk show together, the topic of the specific episode being unfaithful husbands, when Harrison's cell phone suddenly rang. He took a moment to check the caller ID.

"Sorry guys", Harrison said after recovering from a bout of laughter in response to what he had been seeing on the show, "I've gotta take this."

Harrison stood up from his sitting position on the edge of Tran's bed and answered his phone. "Harrison", he said into the phone.

"Troy", Voight replied from his end of the line, "It's Hank Voight. Where are you?"

"Abby Asher and I went to deliver the death notification to Raul Lionzo's brother", Harrison began to explain, "We decided to bring some pizza to Sunny here at Chicago Med. We've been here for about an hour now. What's up?"

"Commander Brooks wants us all back around the conference table at the Thirty-Four ASAP. The shell corporation that Abby and Ernie hipped us to earlier seems to be having a bit of a ripple effect. Your buddy Dean McCain from the task force just got here, and he even brought about half a dozen FBI agents from the Chicago Field Office with him. This looks to be quite a big deal, so you guys better hustle ass back here."

"Okay", Harrison replied, "We're on our way."

"Copy that", Voight said, "Tell Sunny that Alvin and I wish her well, okay?"

"You got it", Harrison said, "Thanks Hank. See you in a few."

The detective turned to his two friends and fellow detectives. "That was Hank", he said to Asher, "Dean McCain from my CtOS Task Force just showed up at the district with a bunch of other FBI agents. It's apparently regarding something about that shell corporation that you and Ernie found while you were undercover. The commander wants us back there immediately."

With that, Asher looked to Tran and let out a very regretful sigh before giving her another very careful sideways hug. "Sorry we have to take off like this, Sunny", she said with a disappointed tone in her voice, "I really wish we could stay longer."

Tran held up her uninjured free hand and shook her head. "I of all people get it, guys", she said, "Even if I can't physically be there with you, there's a case that needs to be worked, so do me a favor and work it."

Harrison chuckled in response. "You got it", he said, "Hank and Al said to 'Get Well Soon', by the way."

Tran smiled. "Tell them I'll see them soon", she said.

With that, the two waved Tran their goodbyes for the moment and left.

_Conference Room  
CPD District 34  
15 Minutes Later_

Harrison and Asher entered District 34's Conference Room to find, as Voight had warned, Dean McCain standing at the head of the large conference table. Voight, Olinsky, Machado, both of the Broussards, Commander Brooks, and Detectives Brooks and Dobbs were all seated around the table. Mixed in with them were at least six FBI agents dressed in the proper FBI windbreakers. Two of the agents were men: one African-American and one white, while four of their colleagues were female: one white, two Hispanic, and one African-American.

"Sorry we're late", Harrison said as he went to the head of the table and extended a hand to McCain, "Hey Dean", he said to him.

McCain shook the detective's hand cordially. "Troy", he said, "Sorry to crash your guys' party so suddenly."

"No problem, man", Harrison replied before gesturing to Asher as she said down in her own seat beside Olinsky, "You remember Detective Abby Asher from Narcotics, right?"

McCain nodded a salutation to Asher. "Of course," he said, "It's good to see you again, Detective, even under the circumstances."

"You too, Agent", Asher replied in just as affable a tone.

The veteran FBI agent then stepped to the front of the room. "Now if we could get down to business here, people" McCain began to explain, "We're here because we got wind of the investigation that you all had started into Lasef Enterprises. Who exactly was it who began this inquiry on behalf of CPD?"

Detectives Asher and Machado punctually raised their hands in retort. "That would be Detective Machado and myself, sir" Asher said, "I went undercover for a few weeks posing as a cocktail waitress in the bootleg casino in the Rossi-Fremont Housing Projects that's owned and operated by the Black Viceroys gang. Detective Machado backed me up as my handler, and it was during this time that we gathered intelligence that brought the Lasef Enterprises' connection to the Viceroys into the light."

"What exactly was this intelligence of which you speak, Miss Asher?"

"Excuse me", Lieutenant Broussard sharply and abruptly interjected, "Agent McCain is it?"

McCain nodded. "Yes", he replied, "I'm sorry and you are…?"

"Lieutenant Kathy Broussard", Lt. Broussard clarified, "I'm the commanding officer of the Narcotics unit for this district. We met at the Tran family bakery a while ago. With all due respect, I'd appreciate it if, from here on out, you'd show your own amount of respect and please address my detective by her well-earned rank. So, it's 'Detective Asher', not 'Miss'."

After a tense beat, McCain sighed. "I understand", he said, his tone now softening, "You have my sincerest apologies, Lieutenant." His gaze soon returned to Asher, "And also to you, Detective. Please continue."

"We traced about half a dozen dummy bank accounts back to Lasef Enterprises", Asher continued, "Deposits and withdrawals alike. All in all, the amounts totaled to about three-hundred-thousand and some change. It's likely that this phony company is the one that's both footing the bill and laundering the illicit proceeds for Delford Wade's entire narcotics operation."

"That's precisely why my team and I are here right now", McCain said.

"Full disclosure, everybody", Harrison chimed in, "I figured that the FBI must've been looking into Rossi-Fremont and Lasef Enterprises based on how much money Abby and Ernie figured they were running, so I called Agent McCain in to help out."

Harrison was then met by perturbed looks from Asher, Machado, and both the Broussards. "I didn't expect them to respond here so quickly", he humbly added, "I apologize for going over all of your heads."

"We'll deal with this later", Captain Broussard said before turning his attention to McCain, "Were you able to figure out anything worthwhile about this 'Lasef Enterprises'?"

"They're apparently a bogus shell company based out of Lima, Peru", the Hispanic female FBI agent replied, "I contacted our counterparts from Interpol who have a small office in Lima. The agent there reported that the so-called base of operations for Lasef is nothing more than a rickety metal shack on a desolate road on the edge of town."

Olinsky chuckled at that. "Huh", he said, "One would think that with three-hundred-grand in their pocket, they could afford something swankier than that."

"The question is", Machado cut in, "What do we do with all this intel now?"

"We could swear out a federal warrant against Delford Wade and the Black Viceroys", McCain suggested, "Take them all down in one swoop."

The male African-American agent raised his hand. "Actually sir", he said, "That could be a bit tricky. If the Viceroys get wind that we're coming for them, Detective Asher's cover could be blown and they could come after her in retaliation."

"Plus", Harrison added, "I have an informant with a connection to the Viceroys. He too could be in some serious danger if they were to get wind."

"Alright then", McCain replied in reference to both statements, "Out of regard for everyone's case integrity and personal safety, no one moves in on the Viceroys until we're all on the same page."

Meanwhile, as he sat in his seat writing miscellaneous notes on a white-lined legal pad, Harrison was suddenly struck with quite the notion, at which point he turned to Asher.

"Hey Abby?" he inquired.

"Yeah?" Asher replied.

"Remind me again", Harrison said, "What were the names of Lasef Enterprises' four shareholders?"

Asher took out her memo book and took a second to scroll through its pages. "Umm", she began as she scanned the list with her eyes, "'Lana Gerbsorf', 'Malcolm Wingood', 'Francis Linem', and 'Wallace Narrob'."

Harrison scoffed with a grin out of reluctant realization before standing up out of his seat and approaching the large rectangular white dry-erase board at the front of the room. Grabbing a blue marker, he wrote the four names in their appropriate order in large capital letters.

"What are you thinking, Troy?" Voight asked, "Tell us."

The now very determined Harrison went on to write last names under each shareholder's last name. Underneath "GERBSORF", he wrote "FORSBERG". He then wrote "GOODWIN" beneath "WINGOOD", "MILNE" under "LINEM", and finally "BARRON" under "NARROB".

An abruptly stunned Commander Brooks put a hand over his mouth for a moment. "Holy Mary, Mother of God", he almost breathlessly said, "No! It can't be!"

"I'm sorry, Commander", Harrison apprehensively said, "but the aliases fit. It looks like they just used easy anagrams and names that coincided just well enough with their real ones. 'Lana' for 'Alan', 'Malcolm' for 'Mickey', "Francis' for 'Frank', and last but not least…"

"'Wallace' for 'Walter'", Voight interrupted, "I get it, man. So, you're telling us that a who's-who of CPD Ivory Tower command staff, including our own goddamn First Deputy Superintendent have been using some Peruvian shell company to jointly finance one of the biggest narcotics operations in our city?"

"I'm sorry to admit it, Hank", Harrison said, "but it looks that way, yes. Commander, you said that you had met with Superintendent Daniels about Barron after we spotted him on that May Stadium surveillance the night of the murders, right?"

Commander Brooks sighed a very fearful and nearly defeated sigh. "Yes, I did, Detective", he replied, "He stuck up for Barron for the most part, but his tone told me that he had somewhat of an impression that something was off."

"How so, sir?" Olinsky asked.

"He wasn't specific", Commander Brooks candidly replied, "But he did mention Barron's twin daughters, Faith and Destiny. Barron has always said how proud he is of them. They go to an expensive private Catholic school here in the city."

"…And he could be paying their tuition with Viceroys' drug money", Asher inferred.

"We don't know that for sure yet, Abby", Lt. Broussard replied before deeply sighing, "Jesus, what the hell do we do with this?"

"It looks like I have to call Superintendent Daniels", Commander Brooks said, "Then, as pissed as I know he's going to be, I'm going to have to call the Mayor."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28: Helping Hands**

_[A/N: Thanks to another alert guest reviewer, I came to the realization that I've put a lot less "Aiden/Watch Dogs" content in this than I had initially thought. Hopefully what I've put here will rectify that oversight. I want to just take a moment to thank all of you reviewers who have taken the time to give me some honest criticism without being abrasive, disrespectful, or mean. I very much appreciate it and have taken your thoughts under advisement.] _

_CPD District 34  
30 Minutes Later_

As everyone filed out of the conference between the Chicago PD and the FBI, Captain Broussard took Harrison aside to a corner of the hallway to talk with him privately.

"What possessed you to bring in the goddamn FBI without telling your superior officer?" Broussard discreetly scolded, "I'm your squad Captain for Christ's sake!"

Harrison sighed. "I'm sorry, Captain", Harrison said, "All I did was call Dean McCain knowing that the FBI would want in on a possible shell company investigation. I had every intention of telling you, your wife, her squad, and Commander Brooks, but I had no idea McCain would show up with a whole damn platoon of field agents practically an hour after I hung up with him."

The captain took a moment to compose himself. "Fine then", he finally said, "I'll do you a favor and try to smooth things over with Kathy, Asher, and Machado. But, in return, do me the courtesy of calling me before you bring in anyone else next time."

Harrison nodded. "Understood, sir", he said.

As Captain Broussard walked back toward the squad room, Harrison's cell phone suddenly rang. "Harrison", he promptly answered.

"Detective", Aiden Pearce said from his end of the line, "It's Aiden Pearce. I found a possible location for my sister, Nicky. Thought you might want a heads up."

"Aiden!" Harrison replied in a soft yet scolding tone, "Do you know that there's a warrant out for your arrest? The news is saying you're 'The Vigilante', not to mention every cop in the city is keeping an eye out for you!"

"I can't worry about that now", Pearce said very candidly, "I need your help to deal with these guys who have my sister."

Harrison sighed and groaned out of frustration. "Fine", he finally said, "Where?"

"A treatment plant warehouse in Brandon Docks", Pearce said, "Just do me a favor and don't ask me how I got the info. Trust me, you don't want to know. I just texted you the GPS coordinates."

"Okay", Harrison said after receiving the coordinates as promised, "I'm on my way. I'll be bringing some backup, but we'll make sure to keep our distance until you need us."

"Understood", Pearce replied, "Thanks. I won't have time to wait up for you, so call me when you arrive." He quickly hung up.

Harrison clipped his phone back to the belt loop of his jeans before seeing Voight, Olinsky and McCain in the hallway. "Hey fellas!" he called out as he waved them over.

The two detectives and the FBI agent came over to Harrison in the corner of the hallway. "What's up?" Voight asked.

Harrison shushed him. "We should keep our voices low", Harrison said, still keeping his tone slightly muted. "I need some backup for a rescue mission", he continued, "but let's just say things may not be on the up-and-up."

The three men took a moment to consider what Harrison had said. "Let us be the judge of that", McCain said, "Does it have something to do with that Pearce guy again?"

Harrison nodded. "Yeah", Harrison said before explaining what Pearce had said on the phone call. "I just forwarded the coordinates to your phone", he said to McCain, "Can you bring a few of your agents along with us? Knowing the people that Aiden's been going up against, I expect whoever's holding Nicky Pearce hostage may be packing a shit-ton of firepower."

"Sure", McCain replied, "I'll call Doc Bartholomew and the task force and have them chip in too."

_Treatment Plant Warehouse  
Brandon Docks_

A nondescript green 1999 Isuzu box truck slowly inched down a cramped road beside the raggedy chain-link fencing that surrounded an abandoned water treatment plant warehouse in the city's waterfront Brandon Docks district. Inside the truck were Detectives Harrison, Voight, and Olinsky as well as CtOS Task Force members Dr. Neal Bartholomew, FBI agent Dean McCain and three of his agents who had been at the meeting, and ATF agent Lavinia "Vin" Taylor. A plainly-clothed undercover male FBI agent was behind the wheel of the truck, and he soon caught sight of Aiden Pearce crouched behind a pale of old, rotting wooden pallets just near the threshold of the fenced perimeter.

"Detective Harrison!" the driver called out.

Harrison's face soon appeared in the small window separating the front of the truck from its rear compartment. "Yes?" he answered.

The driver agent pointed out the windshield. "I see somebody over there by those pallets", he replied, "A white male. He fits the description of your informant. Is that your guy?"

Confirming that it was indeed Aiden Pearce, Harrison nodded. "Yeah", he said, "That's him. Pull over here for a minute, please."

As the truck's speed began to gradually decrease, Harrison then turned to McCain, who had been sitting in the back of the truck with him. "Dean", he said, "Take off your FBI windbreaker for a minute and come meet Aiden with me. If any prying eyes are around and they see the letters 'FBI' or 'CPD', this whole thing could get blown to hell."

"Good idea", McCain replied as he and Harrison both removed their respective agency windbreakers, throwing them in the corner of the truck's rear cab for the moment.

The truck quickly came to a stop, at which point its rear door was rolled up and Harrison and McCain exited. The pair discreetly made their way over to the enigmatic hacker, being sure to stay low and avoid being spotted.

"Thanks for coming, Detective", Pearce whispered.

"Not a problem", Harrison replied in an equally low tone as he motioned to McCain, "This is Special Agent Dean McCain with the FBI. He's a member of our CtOS Task Force." He then gestured to Pearce. "Dean", he continued, "This is Aiden Pearce."

Pearce gave the agent the once over. "Is it just the two of you here?" he asked.

McCain shook his head. "No", McCain replied as he momentarily pointed back toward the box truck with an outstretched thumb, "We've got two other detectives, two members of our task force, and three other agents in the back of that truck there. What've you figured out so far?"

"I hacked the CtOS cameras", Pearce began to explain, "This place looks pretty fortified. It looks to me like my sister Nicky's being watched over by just one guy, but it also appears that every guard on the premises is armed."

McCain took a second to weigh their options before nodding affirmatively in response. "Okay", he finally said, "Are you armed?"

"I am", Pearce replied.

"Why don't you go in and try to extract your sister yourself?" McCain suggested, "If we were all to go in there at once full-force, all that ensuing gunplay could risk her life."

"That's a solid idea, Agent", Pearce replied, "But I think if they were to detect my presence, the gunplay would ensue anyway, which would be just as much of a risk to Nicky."

"Good point", Harrison chimed in, "So, what are you thinking then, Aiden?"

"I see that the guy watching over Nicky has his own cell phone", Pearce said, "I think I can take him out remotely by hacking and overloading a junction box in the room. Once he's neutralized, I'll call the guy's phone and try to guide her out of the building, hopefully without being seen or even detected by any of those guards."

"That's a little unorthodox", Harrison said to both Pearce and McCain, "And I don't know how you feel about it, Dean, but that sounds like the best idea to me. We let Aiden do his thing, guide his sister out as inconspicuously and safely as possible, and then we go in and deal with the bad guys once she's off the premises."

McCain nodded. "Agreed", he replied, "I'm in." The agent then reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and removed a small box, which he then handed to Pearce. "In this box is an earwig radio transmitter", he explained, "It will enable us to talk to you and tell you when to get clear so we can make entry when the time is right."

"Got it", Pearce replied as he removed the earwig device from the box and inserted it into his right ear, "My only request is that up until that point, we keep the chatter to a minimum so I can focus."

"Absolutely", Harrison said, "There's just one more thing, Aiden. I'm guessing, based on your extensive experience as a hacker, that you have some sort of scrambling algorithm on your phone so it can't be traced, right?"

Pearce then let out a very hesitant sigh and nodded. "Correct", he replied candidly.

"I'm going to insist that you temporarily deactivate that so we can hone in on your phone with our CtOS software", Harrison instructed, "This is so we can overhear your conversation with your sister and make sure everything is copasetic. It's purely meant as a safety measure for both you and her, I promise."

"Fine", Pearce said in an agreeable yet still somewhat reluctant tone, "Let's just do this."

A few minutes later, Harrison and McCain were back in the truck instructing the team on their agreed-upon plan. The always methodical Agent Taylor soon had Aiden Pearce's phone and GPS position highlighted on one screen of her laptop, while the feed from the warehouse's several CtOS cameras was simultaneously displayed on another screen.

"All right", Taylor said, "We're ready to rock and roll here, Troy. Connections and feeds to all the cameras and Pearce's cell phone are all good."

"Well done, Vin", Harrison said as he watched from over her shoulder, "Do you see any sign of Aiden's sister on the cameras?"

Taylor quickly used the CtOS facial recognition software to identify Nicole Pearce's position. The kidnapped 34-year-old single mother could be seen crouched down in a cluttered room, and as her brother had indicated, was being guarded by one solitary male subject. "Got her", Taylor replied, "She's roughly one to two hundred yards from your boy Aiden's current position."

Harrison gave Taylor an appreciative pat on the shoulder before picking up a portable radio and looking to Pearce's position on the opposite screen. "Hey Aiden", Harrison said into the radio, "I can see you on the camera feed. If you can hear me, touch the brim of your hat."

The detective soon saw Pearce do as he had instructed. "Okay", Harrison continued, "You've got a green light to do your thing. We'll be with you guys the whole way, so good luck."

Over the next few moments, the team watched as Aiden Pearce skillfully took out the man who had been guarding his sister by remotely overloading a junction box, cleverly taking him out with the subsequent explosion. He then dialed the man's discarded cell phone, at which point the ringtone got Nicole's attention.

"_Nicky_", Pearce's filtered voice was overheard, "_It's me_."

"_Aiden_!" Nicole's filtered voice replied, "_Where are you? There are men everywhere. The guard here, he just…I don't know what happened._"

"_Listen_", Pearce replied, "_I know. I'm getting you out. We're gonna stay on the phone and I'm gonna walk you out_."

"_No!_" Nicole's reluctantly-toned filtered voice said, "_they'll find me_."

"_Nicky_", Pearce said, "_There's a gun there. I want you to pick it up. Just in case._"

The team continued watching the feed as Nicole hesitantly picked the handgun up off the table. "_Oh God_", Nicole's filtered voice said in protest, "_This is crazy. Aiden, I don't know guns._"

The team was just as startled as Nicole was as another male subject came into the room. With a shocked scream, Nicole impulsively squeezed the gun's trigger. The fired bullet struck the man in the upper chest and he slumped to the floor beside a small pile of wooden pallets, dead.

"Oh shit", an uncharacteristically astonished Hank Voight said, "she shot the guy! We've gotta get in there now!"

"No", Harrison said with substantial conviction in his voice, "Aiden knows what he's doing."

Voight groaned out of annoyance and looked to McCain for guidance. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think if Troy has that much confidence in the guy", McCain replied, "Then we go with his gut feeling. As soon as the girl's out safely, we go in, and not a minute sooner."

Everyone's attention immediately returned to what was happening on the camera feeds. "_He's…_" Nicole's filtered voice stammered in shock, "_…I shot him._"

"_We've got to move_", Pearce's filtered voice replied without skipping a beat, "_Listen to my voice_."

"_I think I killed him_", Nicole's filtered voice said, obviously still emotionally paralyzed by what she had just done.

"_Nicky_", Pearce sternly said, bringing her back down to Earth. "_Listen to me. We're gonna move now. I'm gonna guide you every step_."

The team all but collectively held their breath over the next few minutes as Aiden Pearce very expertly guided his sister out of the warehouse without being seen. The siblings engaged in brief bits of conversation amongst themselves, all the while with the team overhearing them from the van.

They finally saw Nicole make her way to a parked metallic red 2011 Volvo S60 sedan and jumped in at Aiden's insistence. She promptly started the car and floored it out of the garage door that her brother had remotely opened.

Back inside the van, in response to seeing this on the camera feed, Harrison grabbed a portable radio and keyed the mic. "Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward to any available units in the vicinity of Brandon Docks", he said into the radio, "Be advised, we have a red four-door late-model Volvo sedan exiting the area. Advise that you do not approach the vehicle at this time. I repeat, do not approach. The driver is a friendly. Also, be advised that plain-clothes CPD detectives and federal agents are also in the area conducting an operation, over."

"This is Thirty-One-Hundred", a male officer's voice responded from the radio, "Sergeant Frank Daily with the Thirty-First District. I copy your request and will advise all my area units. Be advised, OEMC just received an anonymous tip regarding 'The Vigilante' possibly being at or near your location. Do you require assistance? Over."

"That's a negative at this time", Harrison said, "Please have your units stand down for the moment. There are several of us on scene right now, but we'll radio if we need help. Thank you, Sergeant. Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward out."

The team put on tactical vests and readied their assault rifles for what most likely came next. "All right boys and girls", McCain instructed, "The Pearce lady looks to have gotten out safely, so it's time to go in there. We keep our weapons hot and neutralize any hostiles if necessary."

With that, eight team members quickly exited the truck, with Dr. Bartholomew and Agent Taylor staying inside the van to monitor things. As McCain and his agents stealthily took up positions around the exterior of the warehouse, Harrison switched the frequency on his portable radio to Aiden's earwig transmitter. He keyed the mic once again.

"Aiden?" he said into the radio, "Aiden, can you hear me?"

"Yeah", Pearce said, "I copy you, Detective."

"It looks like Nicky was able to get out of here safely", Harrison replied, "Do you have a car?"

"Shouldn't be a problem", Pearce said confidently.

"All right", Harrison replied, "I want you to ditch that earwig transmitter, get in your car, and try to catch up to her. Keep your phone on, we'll track you on the GPS, and I'll catch up with both of you guys later, okay?"

"Got it", Pearce replied, "Thanks a lot for your help."

Harrison sighed. "No problem, buddy", he said, "Now get the hell out of here and go to your family. We've got this covered."

The detective switched the radio's frequency once again, this time tuning it to the team's private tactical channel. "Doc?" Harrison said into the radio, "Doc? It's Harrison. Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Detective", Dr. Bartholomew said from his position inside the van, "Go ahead."

Harrison momentarily looked to Voight before replying. "We've got to catch up with Aiden", he said to him, "Would you be okay with leaving Alvin here with the Feds to handle things?"

Voight nodded. "If anyone can handle himself, it's Al", he said.

Harrison himself then nodded in agreement. As Voight walked away to radio Olinsky to notify him of their plan, Harrison keyed the mic on his own radio. "Doc", he said into the radio, "Be advised, Hank and I are going to try and intercept the Pearces. Have you guys got things covered here, over?"

"And then some", Dr. Bartholomew replied from the radio, "Go do what you have to do, that's an order. Bartholomew out."

Just then, a mysterious black sedan rolled up to the warehouse. Harrison came to the conclusion that the bad guys had called for their own backup.

By the time a hooded male subject slid out of the driver's seat, he was abruptly surprised with a disarming blow to the side of his head, having just been whipped by Harrison's handgun. He groaned in pain after hitting the ground face down.

"Who the hell are you, man?" he hoarsely asked as he looked up at Harrison.

Harrison held his gun on the man from above. "Your worst nightmare, dickweed", he said with a very self-assured tone as he held out his free hand, "Give me the keys."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29: "Your Move, Aiden"**

Now in a sedan that had been commandeered from a "Fixer" following Nicole Pearce's successful rescue and the subsequent FBI raid of the Brandon Docks warehouse, Harrison and Voight were racing through Parker Square trying to isolate the GPS location provided by Aiden Pearce's cell phone. With Voight behind the wheel, Harrison eyed the tablet screen and provided directions to him at every step while also monitoring CPD radio chatter detailing other officers' dogged pursuit of the now fugitive hacker. Pearce had been outed as the city's mysterious "Vigilante", seemingly leaving CPD with no choice but to act on the arrest warrant they had for him.

"We've got a high-powered patrol car in pursuit of suspect", a female dispatcher's voice said from the radio.

"Where is that?" Voight asked.

"I've got the radio scanning between frequencies", Harrison said, "That's the Thirty-First District's channel. Sounds like it's coming from Parker Square, so I would assume that's in the immediate vicinity of Nicky Pearce's house."

"What's Pearce's location?" Voight asked.

"Looks like his hauling ass out of the city", Harrison replied, "the GPS ping is zigging and zagging all over the place, but his general direction looks to be headed towards Pawnee."

"That's where we go then", Voight assuredly said, "Hang on." He then sped up the sedan and quickly fish-tailed the vehicle through an improvised shortcut onto the highway towards Pawnee.

A now astounded Harrison clutched onto the grab-bar above the passenger-side door for dear life. "Sweet Jesus, Hank!" he said while catching his breath, "Have you chased a lot of folks before or what?"

Voight chuckled and gave him an understated smirk in retort. "Twenty years as a Chicago cop, kid", he said, "Sometimes you've just gotta do what you've gotta do. Don't ever forget that."

"Noted", Harrison said, "Since we're headed to Pawnee, isn't that a little out of CPD's jurisdiction?"

"Yeah", Voight said, "Why don't you get on the phone to the Cook County Sheriff's Police and have someone meet us at Pearce's location?"

Harrison nodded affirmatively to his partner's request and took out his cell phone, dialing the Cook County Sheriff's Police.

"Hello", Harrison said into the phone a few seconds later to the dispatcher who answered, "This is Detective Troy Harrison with Chicago PD Homicide, badge number Three-One-Two-Five-Five. My partner and I are coming into your jurisdiction to apprehend a suspect with an outstanding warrant and we'd like some assistance from your agency if we could. We're tracking the suspect's cell phone GPS right now, and I should have an exact location for you momentarily."

The two detectives eventually caught up with Aiden, Nicole, and Jackson Pearce ten miles outside the city in the quaint small town of Pawnee. The three of them came to a stop at a public parking lot across the street from a local landmark called the Crazy Moose Inn. Not wanting to draw any unwarranted attention to themselves, Harrison and Voight pulled their own sedan into the inn's parking lot, exited the vehicle and stood beside it, just barely out of view.

They observed Aiden Pearce very regrettably bidding his beloved sister and nephew goodbye, at which point they saw Nicole get into the gray sedan her brother had been driving and drive off to parts unknown. Once Nicole and Jackson had driven away, Pearce caught sight of Harrison and Voight coming his way from across the street.

"Damn it", he muttered to himself.

"Hey Aiden", Harrison dryly greeted his informant as he and Voight crossed into the parking lot, "You okay?"

Pearce sighed and shook his head. "Not at all, Detective", he replied in a very frank and frustrated tone, "Everybody knows I'm the goddamn 'Vigilante', your department has a warrant out for my arrest, and I just sent away the two people I have left in the world because some assholes are out to kill me."

"We're very sorry about all that, Pearce", Voight chimed in, "We really are. However, the good news is that the FBI raided that warehouse where they were keeping your sister, and aside from the guy Nicole accidentally shot and the guard you killed with that junction box, everybody else made it out alive and are now in custody."

"Agent McCain should have some answers for you soon", Harrison added.

Pearce gave them a very tense look. "What?" Harrison sharply inquired, spotting the telltale look all but immediately.

"Let's just say I've had my answers all along", Pearce said with a concretely self-reliant tone in his voice.

Voight crossed his arms, perturbed by Pearce's choice to be so cryptic. "And exactly what the hell does that mean, Pearce?" he said with a tone that was just as biting as the one Harrison had just used.

"The guys who took Nicky", Pearce began to explain, "They were sent by a guy I used to work with. A guy I once called my friend, actually."

"You mean to tell us", Voight interjected, "That this whole damn time, you knew who was responsible for all the shit your sister went through?"

"Yes", Pearce replied with a degree of icy detachment in his voice.

"Christ, Aiden!" A now very irritated Harrison barked, "Why the hell didn't you tell us?"

"With all due respect, Detectives", Pearce said, "This ordeal that I'm involved in is bigger than the both of you, bigger than just Chicago."

"If Blume is involved", Harrison replied, "I'd have to say my 'no-shit' light just came on. So then, who the hell is this dude who orchestrated Nicky's abduction?"

"His name is Damien Brenks", Pearce began to explain, "He taught me how to take advantage of computers and the internet for profit and it eventually turned into a full-time occupation for both of us. I think we were hacking before most people even know what 'hacking' or even 'the internet' were."

"And you guys eventually went to work for Blume together, right?" Voight asked.

Pearce nodded. "We worked together writing the code for a program that, over time, was developed into the CtOS", he continued, "I think it goes without saying that neither of us thought Blume would develop it into the huge, privacy-invading monster that it's evidently become."

"Then I guess the question becomes", Harrison said, "Why are you back on this Brenks guy's radar now?"

"We did this huge job together at the Merlaut Hotel a while back", Pearce replied, "Let's say we…uhhhh…'redistributed funds' from a bunch of rich people."

"Meaning you stole money and decided to play 'Robin Hood' with the wealthy and well-dressed Lakeshore Drive crowd", Voight quipped, "Exactly how much of these funds did you 'redistribute'?"

"One-Hundred Grand and some change", Pearce said, "We siphoned the money from half a dozen people in less than thirty seconds. Ever since then, he's been trying to blackmail me to working with him again. I refuse to fall for it, though."

"I see", Harrison said, "You are aware that the immunity agreements that CPD and the US Attorney arranged for you don't apply to crimes you committed before the agreements were drafted and signed, right, Aiden?"

The once smug hacker now hung his head out of harsh realization now that reality was kicking in. "No", he sardonically replied, "So, I guess now I'm up shit creek without a paddle and you guys can't hand me one to save me, huh?"

Voight chuckled. "Not so fast, Pearce", he said, "We're willing to go to bat for you with both our bosses and the Feds if you answer us this question. Where the hell did you stash Maurice Vega? He's wanted for a murder that Harrison and Tran have been investigating since the beginning of all this."

Just then, a Cook County Sheriff's Police patrol car pulled into the parking lot and instantaneously caught Pearce's eye. "The only way I'll tell you is off the record", Pearce very matter-of-factly said, "And only with the assurance that my immunity agreements remain intact."

Harrison and Voight traded looks for a moment, at which point Harrison nodded affirmatively. "Fair enough", Harrison replied, "Here's what comes next." He gestured to Voight. "Hank here is going to escort you back to the city with the sheriff's deputy", he continued, "where you'll have to spend the remainder of the night in Cook County lock-up."

"I'll bring you to the courthouse in the morning and get you in front of a judge to take care of that 'Vigilante' warrant", Voight added, "I'll pull some strings and get an Assistant US Attorney to meet you at the courthouse. He or she can discuss your immunity issues right after you see the judge, at which point I'll process you out and have you back on the street by tomorrow night."

"Okay", Pearce replied. He then turned around and placed his hands behind his back to be handcuffed. Voight did so, at which point an older blonde well-built female sheriff's deputy exited the patrol car and assisted the detective in placing him in the backseat.

Before the door was shut, Harrison leaned down to the now seated Pearce. "Keep your head up for now", he said, "It's your move, Aiden."

_Parker Square  
The Next Night  
9:00 PM_

After finally picking up his suitcase and gym back that he had mistakenly left at Detective Asher's apartment when he had been housesitting, Harrison rode the elevated train back to Parker Square from Asher's neighborhood in Sheridan Park. He disembarked from the train and very carefully descended the long stairway upon arrival in Parker Square, at which point he hailed a taxi and climbed into the backseat, placing his reclaimed suitcase and gym bag at his feet on the floor.

"Hey buddy", the heavyset older African-American cab driver greeted, "Where you headed?"

"The Owl Motel, please", Harrison replied with a very exhausted tone in his voice.

"Long night?" the driver asked as they pulled away and started heading toward the motel.

Harrison scoffed in retort. "You have no idea, my friend", he said.

They arrived at the motel within minutes, at which point Harrison was greeted with a very shocking sight. Several CFD fire engines, CPD patrol cars, and other emergency vehicles crowded the parking lot, and Harrison could see a pair of firefighters high up on a ladder attempting to hose out a fire on the motel's second floor.

A now anxiety-ridden Harrison passed a twenty-dollar bill to the cab driver through the divider window. "You sure you want to get out here, pal?" the driver asked.

"I'm sure, man", Harrison apprehensively replied, "Keep the change. Thanks."

Harrison exited the taxi and it promptly drove away. Harrison took in the devastating scene, clutching his suitcase and gym bag for dear life. Those two things were apparently all he had left in the world.

The confounded detective didn't even notice when a firefighter came up to him. "Do you stay here, sir?" the young male firefighter asked.

Harrison turned around to face the man, startled. "Uhhhh…yeah", he muttered as he struggled to come back to the sad reality. He put his gym back down, using his free hand to lift his shirt up, displaying his CPD Detective's badge he had clipped to the belt loop of his jeans. "I'm a Detective with CPD Homicide", he explained, "Troy Harrison. I live on the second floor."

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Detective Harrison", the firefighter said with a very penitent tone in his voice, "But it looks like the second floor was the most effected by the fire. Everything up there has pretty much been incinerated."

"What the hell happened?" Harrison asked.

"The call came in initially as a gas explosion", the firefighter explained, "But when we got here, we found several unidentified male bodies on scene. They all appeared to have been shot. CPD detectives are on the way to take over the scene."

Harrison had all but blocked out the last part of what the kind young firefighter had said as he took a deep breath. "Aiden, you son of a bitch", he said under his breath.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30: The First Snowstorm of the Year (Part 1)**

_[A/N: Those of you who have read my previous Far Cry 5 fanfic story, "Respite" will remember the scenes in which Harrison and Asher referenced an event in their past where they found an abandoned baby during a snowstorm. Here, you'll get to see that actually play out in this two-part event. Enjoy!]_

A lot had happened in the four weeks since the destructive fire at the Owl Motel that left Detective Harrison without a place to call home. Now fully recovered from her on-duty shoulder injury, Detective Tran temporarily opened her home to her partner until he was able to find a new place of his own, for which Harrison was extremely grateful.

Meanwhile, Maurice Vega miraculously showed up in the lobby of CPD's District 34 just one day after Aiden Pearce had given up his location during a discreet meeting with Detective Voight. He was booked into custody, awaiting trial for the murder of Maxwell King.

Elsewhere, with Detective Tran returning to work at CPD Homicide and partnering back up with Harrison, Detectives Voight and Olinsky returned back to their usual assignment with the Gang Unit at District 21. The inconspicuous investigation into possible corruption on the part of First Deputy Superintendent Walter Barron and his three subordinates was put on hold for the time being by order of the Illinois Attorney General's Office so that the FBI could run their own concurrent inquiry into the situation. Even for determined detectives like Harrison, Voight, Olinsky, and the others, life had to go on for now.

_CPD District 34  
February 1, 2011  
5:30 PM_

This cold Tuesday evening proved to be a very demanding and chaotic one for the staff of District 34. A fast-moving snowstorm, dubbed "The Groundhog Day Storm" by the local media, had blanketed the entire Chicago cityscape in 20 inches of snow. This resulted in power outages as well as business and road closures. Even the ever-industrious Lakeshore Drive had to be closed, which was a rarity.

Caught in the thick of this storm was District 34. To help handle the onslaught of calls and emergencies, several detectives were temporarily re-assigned to uniformed patrol duty for the evening so as not to further overwhelm the district's already overstrained patrol officers.

In the locker room, Detective Harrison buttoned up his light blue CPD uniform shirt and adjusted his black patrol pants to a comfortable fit. The homicide detective was about to go out on patrol for the first time in his newfound police career, and though he was a bit anxious, he was even more excited to be trying something different. As he donned his checkered "Crown Cap" police hat, he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

"Hey Troy", the female voice said.

Harrison turned to find Detective Abby Asher, also dressed in full uniform attire, standing just inside the locker room doorway. "The uniform blues look good on you, man", Asher said, smiling.

Harrison smiled back at his friend. "Thanks, kid", he replied, "Same to you. They pulled you back into uniform for tonight too, huh?"

Asher nodded. "Yep", she said, "And the cool thing is, we'll be riding together tonight."

"No shit", Harrison said with a scoff, "Talk about a lucky break, huh?"

"I know", Asher replied, "Sergeant Mahoney paired Sunny with Dobbs and Brooks with that new kid, Officer Wilkes. Machado's riding with the Commander."

"Huh", Harrison said, "I guess it figures, it's only been a week since Sunny got back and we get nailed with one of the worst snowstorms ever. If I can't ride with her, I'm glad I can with you."

The two friends then exited the locker room, with Harrison momentarily putting his arm around Asher as the two walked out into the district lobby. It was here where they ran into an atypically uniformed Captain Broussard.

"Hey Cap", Harrison said, "How's your night going so far?"

Broussard shrugged his shoulders. "Too soon to tell, Detective", he replied, "Commander Brooks wants Sergeant Mahoney and I to stay behind and help hold down the fort tonight."

"What's your lovely wife up to tonight, sir?" Asher asked, referring to Lieutenant Broussard.

"Well", Broussard replied, "It's interesting you asked that, Abby. You guys will all be reporting to her while you're out there tonight. She volunteered to be the district field commander tonight."

"That's comforting", Harrison said before warmly patting the captain on his shoulder, "Have a good one, Cap."

"You guys too", Broussard replied, "Be safe out there."

Harrison and Asher put on thickly insolated black winter coats with the word "POLICE" embroidered in large white uppercase white letters on the back before walking out to the district's rear parking area, where a 2011 Ford Explorer police SUV was waiting for them, all four of its tires appropriately wrapped with chains to safely traverse the snow.

"Mind if I drive?" Harrison asked.

Asher shrugged her shoulders. "Sure", she replied as she got in the passenger side.

After what seemed like an eternal twenty-minute ride, the two uniformed detectives crossed into the center of downtown Chicago as the dense snow beat down on their vehicle, smothering the windshield in smatterings of white powder, to the point where the windshield wipers couldn't even keep it in check while on their highest setting.

"I was thinking", Asher said, "When's the last time we've seen a snowstorm as heavy as this one?"

Harrison took a moment to really consider his friend's question. "Probably that really wintery Saturday morning back in Winterville when we went sledding down Mister Tucker's hill", he replied, "Remember? Without his permission?"

Asher chuckled with a wide, endearing smile. "Yeah", she said, "I remember we got caught in that whiteout and it was all but impossible for us to walk home."

Harrison chuckled himself in retort. "We got back to your mom's house like two hours later both frozen to the bone", he added.

Asher nodded. "She and your mom weren't very happy with us that time, huh?" she rhetorically asked.

The police radio then chirped to life. "Squad to any units in the vicinity of Downtown and any units on the Citywide", a female dispatcher's voice said from the radio, "We have a nine-one-one call reporting a possibly abandoned baby on the front steps of Saint Augustine's Church. No further information at this time, over."

Harrison grunted in frustration over a poor infant being put in such a dire circumstance before grabbing the radio mic and keying it. "Squad", he replied into the radio, "This is Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward with Thirty-Four-Nora-Charlie in marked unit Zero-Four-Three. We're two minutes out from Saint Augustine's rolling Code Three. Hold us down on the call, please, over."

"Copy that", the female dispatcher replied from the radio, "Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward and Thirty-Four-Nora-Charlie responding. Be advised, we have an ambulance on the way but their exact ETA is unknown due to the weather conditions, over."

"Copy that, Squad", Harrison said into the radio before setting the mic back down on its cradle and increasing the SUV's speed. Asher, meanwhile, hit the "Lights" and "Wail" buttons on the vehicle's control console. This activated the blue flashing rooftop lightbars and the wail of the emergency siren.

Despite the harsh conditions brought on by the snowstorm, the two detectives were indeed able to arrive at Saint Augustine's Church within Harrison's estimated time of two minutes. They exited the vehicle and headed toward the church's stone-crafted front steps, at which point they both noted the sight of a small cardboard box on the landing with its top flaps wide open.

Asher hurried up the steps and peered inside. She and Harrison were soon met with the desperate wails of a newborn baby. "Dear God", she said as she gently lifted a poorly-blanketed newborn baby from inside the box and into her arms, "It's a little girl!"

A now shaken Harrison could do nothing but nod for the moment before snapping back to reality, keying the mic on his portable radio. "Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward to Squad", he said into the radio, "Be advised, this is a legitimate call. We've recovered a newborn baby girl in a box here at the church. What's the ETA on that ambulance?"

"Squad to Thirty-Four-Henry-Edward", the same female dispatcher replied from the radio, "Ambulance Thirty-Three is still three to four minutes out, over."

The two detectives traded looks for a moment before Harrison eyed the baby in his friend's armed and sighed in resignation. "She doesn't have three minutes, Abby", Harrison said as he headed back to the SUV. "Hop in back", he said, "Chicago Med's two blocks away. If I haul ass, we can make it. Let's go!"

Asher carefully got into the SUV's back seat, still cradling the abandoned baby in her arms as Harrison jumped into the driver's seat. He started the vehicle back up and put his foot all the way down on the gas pedal, flooring the SUV back out onto the snow-drenched city streets.

"Hey Troy!" Asher called from the backseat, "Do we have a better blanket for her?"

"There's a big first aid kit under your seat", Harrison said, "I think there's a space blanket in there."

By the time Harrison glanced into the rearview mirror, he saw that Asher had retrieved the thermal mylar emergency space blanket from inside the kit and wrapped the baby in it. "Oh no!" Asher breathlessly uttered.

"What's wrong?" an anxious Harrison asked while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

"I think she stopped breathing", an equally worried Asher replied.

Harrison growled out of equal parts infuriation and fear toward this critical predicament. "Alright", he said, "Don't panic, Abby. Are you trained in pediatric CPR?"

"Yeah", she said, "I took the department courses. But I've never done it on a baby this small before."

"I hear you, kid", Harrison said, "But there's no time to worry about anything now. Just do the two-fingered compressions and give her breaths. We're almost at the ER."

_Gaffney Chicago Medical Center  
5 Minutes Later_

Harrison pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance at Chicago Med, where they were greeted by a group of gown and mask-clad medical personnel as soon as they got out of the SUV. The team was headed by emergency pediatrics specialist Dr. Nonie Howard, a short silver-haired woman appearing to be in her early to mid-sixties.

"I'm Doctor Howard", Dr. Howard said, "What have we got?"

"We found this baby in a box on the front steps of Saint Augustine's Church", Asher explained as she carefully handed the now revived baby off to a nurse, "She's obviously suffering from exposure. She stopped breathing for a minute but I gave her infant compressions and rescue breaths."

Dr. Howard nodded. "Nice work, young lady", she said as she hustled inside to follow the other members of the trauma team.

Harrison and Asher sat down on the leather couch in the ER's waiting room, finally taking a moment just to decompress and breathe. Harrison grabbed his friend's hand, at which point Asher rested her head on her friend's shoulder and began to shiver.

"You alright, kid?" Harrison asked.

"I don't know", Asher said, "Just hang onto me for a bit, please, okay? I'm so cold."


End file.
